Recording
by Chiharu-senpai
Summary: Revision of an old fic sans horror. After playing a show at a lesbian cosplay bar run by Sawako's lecherous cousin HTT records their first album with some help from an old classmate.
1. I Got Us a Show

Hello everybody. Welcome to the revision of Recording.

The first time I wrote this fic it sorta branched out and became more the kind of gruesome tale you'd find in Stephen King books (which I love). I personally thought there was no problem with that, having a story jump from one genre to another. Jaime Hernandez did it with his graphic novel series collectively known as _Locas. _But then the fic became huge, complicated, and unwieldy, and basically I stopped enjoying writing it. So I'm going to go back to writing it the way it was originally meant to be written: as a dramatic romantic comedy. This re-upload apparently serves not only myself but an entire body of readers who hated the genre-jump.

This is part one of my comeback plan (see profile). Part two is an idea I have for a fic for a different anime series. Updates for both fics will run parallel with one another. What anime is this other fic going to be about? Well, for now that's a surprise. Enjoy and review, my dear readers.

* * *

><p><strong>RECORDING<strong>

**Chapter One**

**I Got Us a Show**

_Weathermen are so unreliable, _Nakano Azusa thought dismally as she watched the rain dot the music room window like clear round diamonds. When the second year left for school that morning gray and purple clouds had formed a low, bruised ceiling over the town. The meteorologist had insisted that that was as bad as today's weather would get. Azusa snorted, angry she hadn't exercised better common sense and brought an umbrella.

"Hey, are we gonna practice, or what?" she spoke up, puncturing the silence that hung over the music room.

"We're gonna practice," Tainaka Ritsu nodded. "...eventually," she finished lamely. She rested her head on the table, ready to join Hirasawa Yui in an afternoon nap.

"So much rain this month," Kotobuki Tsumugi sighed, picking a glazed apple fritter apart with her fingers. "It kind of makes you tired, ne?"

Ritsu and Akiyama Mio nodded assent. Yui snored softly, a puddle of drool forming on the table. Azusa, arms crossed, sighed, silently agreeing.

"Hopefully, it'll let up by Halloween so we can go trick-or-treating," Mugi added brightly.

Ritsu considered the window, as if silently imploring the rain to cease. She shrugged nonchalantly. "If it doesn't, we could just stay in and watch movies." She grinned at Mio. "Ever seen _Cabin Fever, _Mio?"

The raven-haired girl stiffened. She didn't like the sound of that title.

Ritsu's brown eyes glinted at her best friend's anxious expression. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a husky groan. "It's about five kids caught out in the woods with a flesh-eating virus claiming them one by one!"

Mio sank back in her chair, her pupils dilating and contracting in terror. A low squeak escaped her throat.

"Matter of fact..." The drummer darkly considered the rest of the band. "...any one of us could have it...right nowwww," she hissed.

Ritsu resisted the urge to giggle at Mio's face. The bassist's chin jerked up as she gulped.

"Could it be you? Or Mugi? Azusa?...Yui?" Not that Mio could probably hear her anyway. At this point she'd covered her ears.

"Oh my God!" Ritsu exclaimed loud enough for her friend to hear. "Yui's got the virus and she's gushing blood everywhere!"

"IIIIYYYYAAAAAHHHHH!" Mio shrieked. She leapt up and retreated to her safe corner. Raw shivers racked the poor girl's spine. Yui...blood...crimson, sticky liquid oozing everywhere...It made the bassist's flesh crawl. "I don't see it," she told herself, effectively trying to shun that mental picture.

Ritsu snickered, settling back in her chair. _That was a flight response. _(Her health class had been studying fear response.) Mugi smiled good-naturedly over her tea cup. _Nothing less from these two. _Before, she could never understand Ritsu's driving need to scare Mio, but of late the keyboardist had a hunch...

It was then Sawako popped in to join the Light Music Club for tea. She sat in her usual spot, Mio returned to the table, and the conversation flowed as effortlessly as the tea. Azusa added her two bits now and then. But mostly she listened for the rain to stop. _I could ask someone for an umbrella..._But she was too proud for that.

"So I got us a show," Sawako announced. That caught the entire band's attention (save for Yui, who was still asleep).

"A concert? You did? Really?" Mio exclaimed, her voice tinged with both happiness and anxiety.

"Where is it?" Ritsu asked.

"How did you do this?" Azusa inquired.

The four band members chatted excitedly about their inevitable performance and bombarded their manager with questions. Eventually Sawako roared, "SHUT UP!" and they did.

"I have a cousin," she explained, "who runs a restaurant/bar out in Yokohama. Apparently New Order is on a world tour, and they have a show posted there. But they didn't have an opening band, so..."

"New Order?" Azusa's normally hooded eyes widened. "Oh, my goodness..."

"What's New Order?" Mugi asked innocently.

"Probably the best-known indie rock band ever." The guitarist shook her head in disbelief. "_We _could get known! This is huge."

"When's the concert?" Ritsu asked.

"November 6th," Sawako answered blithely.

No sooner had she announced the date than wee Azusa was out of her seat, her Fender Mustang strapped around her slight frame. They had wasted enough time gabbing over tea and cakes. Now they had a concert - a _real _concert with a _real _band - in less than a month! It was time to practice, damn it!

"C'mon, let's go," she ordered anxiously, plucking out a minor scale on her guitar. "If we have to play with New Order, we can't suck."

"We don't suck!" Ritsu protested.

"We just might in comparison," Mio groaned. She shared Azusa's apprehension about playing with a famous band. She got out her 3-tone sunburst Fender Precision bass, her right hand dashing along the frets, her left hand retrieving her pick from the pickguard.

Mugi hopped up to take her place behind her Korg Triton Extreme. Ritsu, a bit more reluctant than the keyboardist, seated herself at her Yamaha Hipgig drumkit. Mugi warmed herself up with arpeggios whilst the drummer tapped the high-hat.

Azusa nudged the sleeping Yui. "Wake up, Yui-senpai," she said, her voice taking a mock-cheerful tone.

Yui just sighed and buried her face deeper in her arms.

The pigtailed girl shook the older girl's shoulder. "Yui-senpai~" she sang. "Time to wake up~" She continued to prod Yui as she sang, "We have a concert in two and a half weeks~That's not a lot of time to get to New Order's level of greatness~Now Azusa's losing patience so _WAKE UP_~"

"Just five more minutes," Yui groaned.

_Is she kidding? _Thoroughly outraged, Azusa hauled the third year up by her collar and shook her.

"No, you may not have five more minutes!" she ranted. "What, has this band changed its name to After School Nap Time? Get your guitar and stop being lazy!"

Despite her getting owned in the face, Yui smiled. "Does Azu-nyan need a hug?" she chirped. Before Azusa could protest Yui had seized her in a tender embrace. The senpai pressed her body against Azusa's and nuzzled her cheek. "It'll be okay," she assured softly. "We always manage to rock ultimate at the festivals, ne?"

The kouhai shuddered, not liking the meaning _manage _implied. "Hai," she agreed, leaning into Yui's embrace, "but a festival is in a completely different ballpark than a concert." She sighed and linked her hand with Yui's. "But maybe if we use our time wisely, we won't get booed off stage..."

"Of course we won't," Yui murmured.

Mugi lowered her chin, her blue eyes fixed levelly on the two guitarists. She giggled. _Quite a convenient situation. _On their own accord, her eyes drifted over to Sawako. The sensei was also watching Yui and Azusa; her expression was similar to that of the keyboardist. _Sawa-chan and I have a lot in common, _Mugi realized. _At any rate, we're both privy to..._ She blushed and turned her attention back to the guitarists. They had broken their embrace, and Yui was strapping on her Gibson cherry sunburst Les Paul.

Yui cleared her throat. "So, uh...Let's play something..."

"Yeah!" Ritsu cheered.

"Aren't you energetic, all of a sudden," Mio commented dryly.

Twirling her sticks, Ritsu grinned, "That's 'cause drummers naturally produce their own caffeine!" She did a rim-shot, the unexpected, sharp sound surprising the bassist. "Let's play Light and Fluffy Time!"

"Yayness!" Mugi acclaimed, setting her fingers to the appropriate keys.

Azusa was practically jumping with excitement. "Count us in before the stoked moment passes!"

"Live from Music Room 3! We are After School Tea Time!" Ritsu crowed. "One, two, three, four!"

* * *

><p><em>A few minutes later...<em>

Mio sighed, out of breath from her singing. The bass strings squeaked slightly as she released her fingers from them. This was her favorite part about playing in a band: that buzz you feel after playing your song, you can practically see the atomic structures in the air vibrating. But, reality...

"Do we sound bad?" she breathlessly asked.

Sawako shrugged as she finished her tea. "I don't know. Do you?"

"We do, don't we? I knew it..."

"Stop fussing and let's play the song again!" Ritsu rooted.

"Anyways," Sawako smirked, "the audience will probably love you regardless of how you sound. To be honest, the lion's share of 'em will be there for _you, _not New Order."

Azusa blinked. "Eh? Who comes to a concert just for the opening band?"

"Well, y'know, when the opening band is a bunch of cute high school girls..."

Ritsu blanched. "Sawa-chan. What kind of 'restaurant/bar' does your cousin run?"

Sawako toyed with her tea cup a little. "Ah, well, y'see, Tainaka-san...It's a bit of a niche market thing. But it's got an appeal of its own..."

"You're stalllllling!" the drummer sang.

The sensei smiled and looked up boldly. "It's a lesbian cosplay cafe!"

Nothing daunted, Sawako watched as the color ebbed from Mio's face. A virtual shadow fell over Azusa's eyes. Yui flinched. Ritsu gnawed her lip. Only Mugi's expression remained the same; on the contrary, the blonde girl actually seemed delighted.

"I think that's a wonderful and clever concept," Mugi nodded, as if reading her friends' minds. "I'm sure there are plenty of lesbians out there who are into cosplay. They need a place of their own, too."

"Try this concept," Mio grimaced. "Having a bunch of lonely, horny women pawing all over you." The thought alone was almost enough to send the bassist back into her corner. Then she wondered if New Order knew their next venue was a lesbian cosplay cafe.

Sawako snickered and slinked up behind Mio. "This is the perfect opportunity to get you into costume!" she purred.

Mio squeezed her eyes shut as her breath hollowed in her throat. Her palms became clammy. She wrung her hands, as if trying to alleviate herself of the creepy-crawly sensations.

"What was your excuse before, Sawa-chan?" Mugi teased.

Sawako giggled sheepishly as she threw her arm behind her head. "Eheheheh...A good point you make, Mugi-chan." The sensei straightened her posture and quietly considered the blonde keyboardist. Tsumugi was far and away Sawako's best student. She was well-mannered, elegant, got decent grades...and then there was the tea. What's not to like about a girl who makes you tea?

With an effort, the manager tore her bespectacled eyes from Mugi. Sawako indicated the keyboardist and the bassist. "Maybe I should dress you guys up as Yaya and Hikari!"

Ritsu exploded into a fit of laughter.

"No, thank you," said Mio in a tight voice. _Do I even WANT to know who those people are?_

"No?" Sawako blinked. "Okay. Then how 'bout Chikane and Himeko?"

Now Ritsu roared.

"No, thank you," the bassist said again.

"Mari and Akko?"

"No!" Mio exploded. _Aren't there any yuri couples who don't have black and blonde hair?_

Azusa impatiently strummed an A7 chord on her guitar, her favorite chord. "I think what we sound like will be more important than what we look like."

"I agree," Mio nodded, eager to end this weird yuri cosplay conversation.

* * *

><p>The rain had not slackened by the end of practice. Blowing rainwater off her nose, Azusa watched as Mio, Ritsu, and Mugi departed with their umbrellas. The only person other than herself who had forgotten her umbrella was Yui. At first the kouhai felt a bit peeved at being in the same boat as the clumsy brunette. Then she decided that just didn't matter now.<p>

"Anoo, senpai..." Azusa sheepishly itched an eyebrow. "Do you by any chance follow the weather reports?"

Yui shook her head. "I wake up too late in the morning to catch 'em. Why?"

A drop of sweat appeared on the pigtailed girl's head. _Nothing less from Yui-senpai... _But she smiled appreciatively at Yui.

"Well, uh...They said it wasn't supposed to rain today, so I didn't bring my umbrella. Pretty stupid of me, eh?"

Yui giggled and a pink blush dashed her cheeks. "Not bad, but try this. This morning I woke up so late that I didn't have time to grab my umbrella!"

"Oi! This isn't a stupid contest, Yui-senpai!" The younger girl sighed. Before the two of them the rain lashed down in sheets. However, they were safe under the overhang, in their pale patch of dryness on the pavement. "...but I suppose you just won."

Azusa gasped when she felt Yui take her hand. The senpai was leading the kouhai into the deluge.

"How far away do you live?"

Azusa blinked at the seemingly random question. The rain was already plastering her bangs to her forehead. She pointed in the direction opposite of that in which Yui was leading her. "The subdivision down by the electronics store."

Yui stopped running and turned to face Azusa. Rainwater dripped from her chin and touseled brown hair. "Would you like to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It's closer."

The pigtailed girl looked upward, facing the tempest dead-on. Who knew how long it would last? It could go on through midnight...

"Sure," she blurted, facing Yui again. "I'd have to notify my parents, but I can stay. _Arigatougosaimasu._"


	2. Pillow Talk

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Two**

**Pillow Talk  
><strong>

Azusa hung on to Yui's arm to keep herself from getting lost in the storm. She tried turning her face away from the stinging rain, but the strong, ambiguous wind whipped it in all directions. They were running blind. In the younger girl's vision was nothing but gray sheeting rain, traffic lights, and restaurant signs. She wondered if she could rely so heavily on Yui's sense of direction in this situation. Sighing, Azusa buried her face in the senpai's coat. That made a decent shield.

Yui then came to a sudden halt and Azusa crashed into her. Squinting in the downpour, the kouhai interpreted a horizontal yellow-and-black striped bar. _Train gate, _she realized.

Yui, who had been in space cadet mode this entire time, looked up when she felt Azusa shiver. She wordlessly considered the pigtailed girl. A patchy, rosy flush colored her cheeks and ears. Her brown eyes were listless. Her elbows were crunched into her sides for warmth. Her shaky breath escaped her mouth in feathery white puffs. _It is pretty freezing for October, _Yui thought, touching her own numb ears. _And Azu-nyan doesn't have a coat or anything. _Feeling like an utter heel for not noticing before, Yui unbuttoned her coat and held it open to Azusa. The kouhai backed away, her expression uncertain. It was clear that she wanted to, though she didn't know if she should.

"Get in," Yui nodded, and Azusa hurriedly complied. The third year held half her coat around the second year as the two speedily crossed the tracks. Azusa found it even harder to keep up with Yui's pace in her coat. Even more awkward to the kouhai was how close she was pressed to Yui. No matter where she placed her hands or arms, she touched Yui. The senpai, however, didn't seem the least bit fazed by this deepened intimacy.

"I wonder how people are seeing us now?" Azusa wondered out loud.

Yui kept her eyes forward as she mused, "They probably think we're sisters or something."

_Sisters or something. _Azusa hoped to every Kami that no one saw them as anything more.

Yui grinned at her. "This is a pretty romantic scene, though, ne?" Azusa squeaked as the senpai took her hand. "If this were a French movie, I'd be proposing to you."

With a panicked squawk, the kouhai tore out of Yui's coat, preferring the rain to this embarrassing situation. "I-I wouldn't marry you!" she spluttered.

Yui giggled at Azusa's expression, which shifted from outrage to vulnerability and back again. "What's to worry about it? We're both girls."

"That's exactly why I wouldn't!"

Yui noticed that the blush on Azusa's face was no longer a mottled red patch but a soft pink glow.

* * *

><p>When Yui was in kindergarten her friend Reiji had been suspended for kissing her and offering to take her to Paris. They never spoke to each other again after that.<p>

That wind-blown, stormy night Yui dreamed of that memory, only Reiji was replaced by Azusa. The details were fuzzy, and the brunette felt oddly distant from the scenario. But she was aware of their recklessness. They knew it was wrong, but they did it anyway. Ui entered the scene, presumably to bring the hammer down on them, when Yui jolted awake. For a moment she couldn't move her body. Then she rolled onto her side, her limbs trembling.

Azusa was right beside her. The kouhai was on her back, wide awake, staring out into space.

Yui blinked. Then she remembered that Ui had invited Azusa to stay the night. Groggily, the senpai extended her hand until it was touching Azusa's arm.

"Have you been awake this entire time?" she hummed.

Azusa snapped out of her reverie with a start. She turned her wide, surprised eyes over to Yui, then nodded. "I can't sleep."

"What's wrong?"

The kouhai looked back up at the ceiling and bit her lip. Yui inched closer, anxious to hear what was troubling Azusa so much. The dreamlike distant feeling still plagued the senpai's head and she fought to focus on her friend's pained face.

"I realized I have a dentist appointment coming up." Azusa could've kicked herself for saying that.

"Ahh, I hate going to the dentist!" Yui nodded. "Just ask her to put that numbing gel on your teeth. Then it won't hurt."

"Okay."

Though it was true Azusa had to go to the dentist in a few days, that wasn't what was keeping her awake.

"Yui-senpai," she blurted. "I-I'm sorry…"

Flummoxed, Yui propped herself up on her elbow. "Sorry about what?"

Azusa gazed sorrowfully at Yui, her chestnut-colored eyes swimming. "Sorry for yelling at you earlier today."

Yui's smile was so friendly and warm, it banished the mid-autumn chill. "It's okay. I don't mind Azu-nyan's yelling and God knows I deserve a good holler every now and then. Besides," she added, settling back down with her head nestled between the younger girl's shoulder and neck, "Azu-nyan is so kawaii when she's frustrated."

"Oi, oi, I don't get frustrated for the sake of service, Yui-senpai," Azusa frowned. Then she sighed, "But…I said I'd never marry you…I…I…didn't mean it…"

"I know."

The kouhai looked at Yui sharply. "You knew?"

"I like playing with Azu-nyan, and often she'll play the game with me."

Though Yui had accepted her apology, Azusa couldn't help but still feel dissatisfied.


	3. There's Gotta Be a Morning After

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Three  
><strong>

**There's Gotta Be a Morning After**

Azusa woke up slowly. Turning onto her back, she noted with only a little interest the sunrise. Dawn broke crisp and cold over the frosty horizon, casting sharp rays upon the rapidly advancing clouds. The wind kept up its strong current, whipping the naked trees hither and thither. Even though the covers were nice and toasty, Azusa could already tell this was going to be another freezing day.

A little unwillingly, the second year sat up. After her midnight chat with Yui, she had slept heavy. The kind of sleep where you feel like you've been punched. The kind of sleep that feels so, so _good._

Beside her, Yui snoozed on her tummy, hugging her pillow close to her face. Azusa tilted her head at the senpai. An odd smile spread across her face. Yui never worried about anything, yet her life ran more smoothly than the kouhai's.

_I like playing with Azu-nyan, and often she'll play the game with me. _The younger girl winced as Yui's blithe words crashed down on her. Game. What kind of a weird metaphor was that? And since when did Yui use metaphors?

Azusa shook her head. Too early for this. She was getting a headache and it wasn't even six o'clock. The kouhai left Yui sleeping and dressed herself in her uniform. As soon as she left the room she could hear a pan sizzling from afar. Sure enough, she found Yui's little sister, already in full uniform, making an omelette. Azusa was surprised, but not as much as Ui when she entered the kitchen.

"Ohayo, Ui-chan."

Ui jumped. In her shock she'd thrown her glass up in the air and frantically tried to catch it. She missed once...twice...In an act of sheer desperation Ui kicked out and caught the glass by balancing it on her foot. Exhaling at last, she picked up the glass and set it on the counter.

"Gomenasai, Ui," Azusa apologized.

"'Sokay," Ui smiled. "I'm just used to being on my own this early in the morning."

The guitarist thought of Yui with her face in her pillow and felt heat rise in her chest and face. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Ui held up the pan. "Omelette?"

"No, thanks. I couldn't impose..."

"Oh, it's alright. In fact, I insist."

In the end the swart-haired girl resigned and soon she was kneeling before the table, enjoying the omelette. It was delicious. Ui had put fire-roasted tomatoes and carmelized onions in it. Azusa was only halfway done with the culinary masterpiece when Ui set a mug of fresh coffee in front of her.

"Arigatou," the guitarist smiled.

"Cream and sugar?" Ui offered.

"No, thanks." Azusa blew away the steam before taking a sip...and then a deep gulp. If it was possible, the coffee was even more heavenly than the omelette. Smooth and mellow with a nut-like taste. She blinked sheepishly when Ui set a dish of sliced honeydew before her.

"Fruit, too? Wow. Thanks, Ui-chan. You'll make someone an awesome wife."

Ui smiled and blushed in response. Then she set her own breakfast on the table. Just as she'd kneeled, though, she considered the clock.

"Oh! I better wake up oneechan."

Azusa wiped her mouth and stood. "I'll do it. You enjoy your breakfast." And she darted away down the hall.

Being a creature of routine, Ui was slow to accept that someone was doing the work for her. That was not to say that she didn't appreciate it. _But sometimes waking up oneechan can be an all-out tribulation, _she thought, chewing her omelette. _It takes patience...which I'm not sure Azusa-chan can provide..._

Her worries were confirmed when she heard screaming from down the hall.

"Ahh! Azu-nyan, what are you _doing?_"

"I shouldn't have to do this, Yui-senpai! You're too old for this!"

Ui nearly choked on her omelette when Azusa entered the kitchen with Yui slung by her ankle over the kouhai's shoulder. Azusa's face was pinched with effort. Yui's was turning from red to purple.

"My vision's clouding over!" the senpai protested. "Please put me down!"

"Are you going to start waking yourself up in the morning?"

"Hai!"

"Swear it."

"I swear I'll wake myself up!"

"Swear it formally."

Yui moaned. Her eyes were dim and unfocused. "Um...I, Hirasawa Yui, do solemnly swear to wake myself up!"

Azusa set her down then. She watched as Yui's face faded from purple to flesh.

* * *

><p>Ritsu was having a fairly good day. Her incomplete essay on popular culture was due today. But her Writing For College teacher got carried away on a lecture and decided to push the due date to Monday. In Spanish she got her test back, and scored better than she thought she would. After school she would have tea and jam with her friends. Simple pleasures all, but the drummer could string them together to make an awesome day.<p>

It had a downtick or two, however. Before school hours she'd met up with Yui and Azusa. They were behaving...unusually. Yui seemed a little downcast and distant, Azusa a bit peevish. The kouhai angrily muttered something about a game before running off to her physics class. After she departed, Ritsu tried making conversation with Yui. The guitarist mumbled about a weird dream, but refused to elaborate.

Yui and Azusa weren't the only ones who weren't themselves today.

Ritsu strolled into her psychology class, smiling at the familiar cascade of black hair in the second row center seat. Snickering into her palm, the drummer crept up until she was kneeling directly behind Mio. As light as a feather yet as sharp as a triggerfish, Ritsu ran her finger up her friend's spine.

"Flesh-eating virus!"

"EEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" Mio stopped the entire class silent with her scream. She jumped up, nearly tripping over her chair.

_THOCK! _The bassist raised a lump on Ritsu's head.

"Don't scare m-me like that, b-baka!" Mio rasped. Her voice was hoarse. Ritsu looked up and flinched. Mio's face was pale, almost gray, and her hair was messy. Her slate eyes were bright, wild, and darted about, the bottom lids swollen and dark. She looked like one of those meth addicts Ritsu saw pictures of in health.

"You are really wound tight today..." The drummer stood up straight and touched Mio's quivering hand. "Are you alright?"

Tears glittered in the bassist's eyes. "I didn't sleep last night," she whimpered.

"At all?" Ritsu gasped.

Mio squeezed her sore eyes shut and shook her head. She sank down in her chair. Everytime she closed her eyes, though, she saw the shadow melting into the wall. But it hurt to open her eyes, to look at things. She hadn't wanted to come to school today, but her parents made her.

"I-I'm not c-coming to practice t-today."

Ritsu nodded understandingly, her hazel eyes wide and sympathetic. "Okay. Yeah. Go right home and get some rest." She waited for Mio to explain. There had to be something going on. A montage of scenarios ran through the drummer's head, each one worse than the last. A boy rejected Mio's feelings? Her parents are getting a divorce?

_Maybe someone died. _Ritsu's jaw dropped. _Oh, no. _A brief surge of emotion burst into her veins. Then the logical half of her brain took over. If someone in her family died, surely Mr. and Mrs. Tainaka would've heard it and told Ritsu. The drummer found it odd how...oblique and secretive everyone was being. Maybe it was something that personally and exclusively involved Yui, Azusa, and Mio. _Maybe I should just butt out._

Yeah, right. She was Ritsu and this was Mio. Ritsu never butted out of Mio's affairs. They were such close friends that it was impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

The bell to start class rang.

Ritsu briefly hugged Mio and whispered, "If you need anything...like to talk...I'm here."

Mio gave her an odd look, and nodded once.

The drummer sighed and took her seat. Their psych teacher, Tokudaiji-sensei, was already instructing his students to turn to such-and-such page.

"What is 'code-switching'?" he asked.

He waited as the silence stretched out. Ritsu turned in her seat, scanning the classroom. Her eyes fell upon Mugi's empty desk. She blinked. She'd seen the keyboardist before Spanish class, so she knew she was here. The drummer's brow puckered. Where was she?

As if in response to Ritsu's question, the door burst open and Mugi staggered in, out of breath. The drummer gasped. Mio bit her lip. The rest of the class murmured anxiously. What they'd thought to be impossible had just happened. Tsumugi was late.

"You're tardy, Kotobuki-san," Tokudaiji-sensei said flatly.

"Gomenasai," Mugi choked, bowing. "I was held up in-"

"You know I don't accept excuses. A tardy is a tardy."

"S-sumimasen," the blonde sighed, bowing lower.

Ritsu's eyes widened as Tokudaiji retrieved the dreaded pink paper from his desk. She gnawed her fist in apprehension. _Holy crap! Mugi's getting a detention! _She turned her nervous gaze over to Mio. The bassist's head sank lower toward her desk, her pencil slipping from her left hand. _What the hell is up with everybody today?_

"Who is your homeroom teacher?" Tokudaiji inquired, filling out the detention.

"Sawa-uhh, I mean, Yamanaka-sensei." Mugi felt weird referring to Sawako so formally.

The psych teacher nodded, then handed Mugi the damned slip. "Report directly to her after school. If you try to dip out, you will be suspended."

"H-hai." The blonde girl's hands falteringly accepted her fated detention. She lurched on over to her desk, her face bright red, trying to ignore her classmates' prying eyes.

Tokudaiji cleared his throat. "Anyways...Code-switching. Don't tell me you don't know what it is because you ladies do it all the time. It's..." He halted and his face spoiled with disgust. "...Seriously?" he growled.

Ritsu followed his glare...right to Akiyama Mio. The raven-haired girl was off in la-la land, slumped over her desk, her right arm hanging over the end, her face buried in her left arm. Her torso rose and fell slowly in tandem with her breathing.

A few girls giggled. A weird, stinging sensation prickled the drummer's eyes. Her hands felt cold and tingly, but her head throbbed hotly. What was going on? Ritsu never felt this way before. It was an irrational feeling. She kind of wanted to hurt the other girls for laughing at her Mio. _But that's a normal way to feel for your best friend, right?_

One simpering individual leaned in to shake Mio awake. But Tokudaiji-sensei shook his head. He had better ideas. He had a brown paper bag from a lecture he'd given last month. He inflated the bag with his breath and held it an inch from Mio's head. Ritsu drew in a sharp breath. She knew this trick. She herself had done it when the two of them were in junior high. Now to have someone else doing it...

Ritsu abruptly stood. Heart pounding fast. Red anger misting her vision. Reached for brown bag.

"Anoo, Tokudai-"

_**BAM!**_

With a choking cry, Mio jerked up. Her back hit the chair hard, forcing it backwards. Squeaking and sobbing, the bassist flailed wildly, but her equilibrium was lost. She crashed to the floor at Ritsu's feet.

"Mio!" the drummer cried, squatting to help her lamenting friend. Mio was shaking like a run-out horse, tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes.

"Oh God, I can't," she sniffled, clinging to Ritsu. The shadow on the wall rippled in her vision. She couldn't see anything else. "I just want it to go away and leave me alone..."

Ritsu gently shushed Mio, stroking her feathery soft black hair. Of course she'd seen her childhood friend scared, but never like _this. _To say that the drummer was livid was the understatement of the year. Happy though she was to be the one to console Mio in her day of distress, all it took was one glance at Tokudaiji standing over them...and Ritsu exploded.

"Kintama! Baka yaro!"

It took the weeping Mio a moment to realize that Ritsu's heated words were not directed at her. She gaped at her friend in horror.

"R-Ritsu! That's a t-teacher! You can't!"

But the drummer careened on in her tirade, oblivious to Mio's tearful protests.

"Yariman! Issunboshi! Benjo mushi!"

"Ri_tsu!_" Mio hissed, more insistent. She raised her hand to deal the swearing girl another goose egg, but Ritsu stayed her fist. The drummer's eyes swam impassionately as she roared, "Aho ketsu!"

A collective gasp rose from the class. Tokudaiji's face twitched furiously as he snarled, "You see me after class."

"Hai, sensei," Ritsu responded scathingly.

The psych teacher's face was beet red. His nostrils flared. He turned to Mio and grunted, "Do you need to see the nurse?"

The bassist hesitated. Then she shook her head, never meeting Tokudaiji's eyes. "No. I'll m-make it through the day..."

"That wasn't an offer, Akiyama-san. Go to the nurse."

"H-hai." Mio clumsily got up, gathered her stuff, and scurried out of the classroom.

Ritsu slowly sat back down, never taking her vehement stare off the teacher. She resisted the urge to smile when she saw him falter under her glare. Then he straightened his posture and traipsed back to his safe little podium.

"Er, where were we...? Mm. Ah, yes. Code-switching...Tainaka-san and I did a lovely if not school inappropriate demonstration of it..."

"You are in so much trouble, Tainaka," a girl behind Ritsu hissed.

The drummer sighed, knowing it was true. But it was a relief, in a way. Ritsu always got in trouble with teachers. This was the first normal thing that had happened all day.

* * *

><p>Or was it?<p>

Ritsu waited until everyone had left the classroom before she boldly approached Tokudaiji-sensei. After a day like today, she was ready to accept any punishment he had. Maybe she would be joining Mugi in detention today. Whatever.

The psych teacher stared at his computer monitor. "Tainaka-san, you were way out of line today. To talk to a teacher that way...You shouldn't even speak to a _friend _that way. By regulations I should have you remanded to the deans' office."

Ritsu exhaled and said quietly, "You were a bit out of line yourself, sensei. Yes, it was rude of Mio to sleep in class. But it wasn't necessary to pop a bag so close to her head. She could've seriously hurt herself falling out of that chair. And by regulations, you would have been fired."

Tokudaiji glared. "You don't talk regulations with me, young lady. Remember that you are just a student." He turned back to his computer and muttered, "What's ridiculous is you're not supposed to get in trouble here. If you'd stayed seated, then Akiyama-san would've been punished and that would've been it."

The drummer shook her head. "After what she's been through, I couldn't let that happen to Mio."

Tokudaiji's brow smoothed. How Tainaka-san had held Akiyama-san...The way she stood up for her...Her using Akiyama-san's name without honorifics...He was kind of getting it. "You and Akiyama-san are...awfully close," he noted with a disapproving frown.

Ritsu smiled and nodded. "We go way back...which is why I was mad when you frightened her." That sounded unconvincing to her, but it seemed to satisfy Tokudaiji-sensei.

"Either way, I would've let you off this time."

It took a moment for the message to register. Then Ritsu's eyebrows shot up high on her forehead. "Huh? Why? I called you a stupid ass and a d*** and a-"

"Yes, I know." The teacher's face plainly said _don't make me reconsider. _"But you're better than most of my students. You're a wee bit lax with the homework, but at least you're a more active participant."

_Unbelievable! Mugi was tardy and got a detention! I cussed him out and got off scot-free! _Ritsu shook her head, but accepted that. Ordinarily she would have willingly and blithely gone with that. But seeing Mio in such a disturbed state shook the drummer to her core. Mio always had the ability to do that to Ritsu, and vice versa. _But best friends do that. Best friends are core shakers. Right?_

"Hai. Arigatougosaimasu." Ristu bowed.

Tokudaiji waved his pen at her, indicating the state of her attire. "And for Christ's sake, wear your uniform properly."

"Hai." The drummer tucked in her shirt and buttoned up her jacket. _Woah, this so does not feel right. _"Goodbye, Tokudaiji-sensei."

"Have a good weekend, Tainaka-san."

Ritsu darted out of the classroom. She immediately unbuttoned her jacket, pulled her shirt-tails out, and hurried on to health class.

On the way she encountered Yui.

"Ah! Yui! Glad I ran into you!"

"Really?" the guitarist asked faintly, smiling.

"Ah-yup," the drummer nodded. "Band practice is cancelled today."

Yui dropped her goofy grin and her eyes widened. "Ehhh? Why?"

"Mugi's got a detention and Mio's sick."

"Mugi's got a detention?"

"I know. Crazy, right? If you see Azu-nyan, tell her for me, 'kay?"

"M'kay. See you later, Ricchan."

"Ja nai."

* * *

><p>Azusa sat in her geometry class, staring at a blank proof without seeing it. This proof demanded to know why triangle A and triangle B were congruent. Three givens. Two rows. Not very difficult at all. However, Azusa was working out a completely different proof in her head, one that wanted to know what kind of game Yui thought they were playing.<p>

_ARE we playing a game?_

Though she'd always hated math, geometry made Azusa a more meticulous, logical thinker. She was quickly able to figure out the rules of the game.

_-Yui-senpai says or does something appalling in a manner of her laziness.  
>-I react to it.<br>-Yui-senpai tries to justify her lousy work ethic with something irrelevant.  
>-I get mad and yell.<br>-Yui-senpai hugs me.  
>-I calm down.<em>

Did that mean Yui won everytime? Azusa frowned. That made a fairly one-sided game. _But I guess it's not so bad when she hugs me, so it's like winning for me, too..._

_Wait. Why do I even care? _All day long she'd thought about Yui and their game. She snorted. Games were so childish. People played them in middle school, not high school. Girls strung boys along, boys dated girls to raise their social status...

Were they playing _that _kind of game? A love game?

Azusa wasn't sure. But she was just about ready to forfeit.


	4. Serendipity

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Four  
><strong>

**Serendipity**

After going to high school for two full years, Mugi was pretty deeply ingrained in her routines. After school she always stopped by the bathroom, gathered her books from her locker, and went directly to Music Room 3. All in that order. The keyboardist was on the third floor when she realized she should be reporting to the fine arts wing. She had less than five minutes. But she doubted Sawako would care about how late she was.

Mugi knew she would not find Sawako in the usual homeroom classroom. The manager more or less taught everything besides band and choir. Mugi wished she knew which class Sawako taught seventh period so she'd know which room to report to. After talking to a drawing media teacher, she learned Sawako taught music technology last.

The MIDI lab was spacious and cold. To the left there was an overhead projector screen. The projector was bolted to the ceiling. Rows of keyboards hooked up to computers took the center of the room. Casio, Korg, Yamaha, Moog. All eighty-eight keys. All computers opened to the Noteworthy digital track recorder.

On the farthest end of the room was a desk behind which sat Sawako. Mugi giggled; her teacher was playing a videogame on her DS.

"Gah! Damn it, I forgot about Abra's Synchronize ability! Don't worry, Shroomish, I have a Full Heal for you!"

Sawako's tongue slipped out of the corner of her mouth. Her DS shook as she pressed the buttons more furiously.

"Okay, this'll do. Now I'll use a Premier Ball and…No! _No!_ Don't teleport! If you teleport I'll…I'll…Ugh," she sighed, tipping her head back. "Lost it. But Hoenn is chock-full of Abra…Oh! Hi, Mugi-chan." Sawako sheepishly closed her DS and sat up straight.

"Hi, Sawa-chan," Mugi grinned. She tilted her head at the console in her teacher's hands. "Wouldn't it be more logical to use a dark-type Pokémon against Abra?"

"Hai. But I'm trying to catch Abra, not make it faint. The little bastards keep teleporting, though."

"You're in Granite Cave, ne?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Have you caught a Nosepass yet? Have it use Block, and then Abra won't be able to teleport."

Sawako blinked. "That's a great idea," she beamed. She started to open her DS, paused thoughtfully, then set it aside. She consulted the detention list on her computer. The computer was hooked up to the projector and Tsumugi winced as her ID number appeared on the screen.

"I gotta say, Mugi-chan," the sensei sighed, "I was kinda pissed when I saw a number on my detention list. For me, that means I can't have tea with you and Ritsu and everybody. Then I clicked the number, expecting a first year teeny bopper, but…" As if her words triggered the action, Sawako clicked the blue underlined number. Mugi's horrible ID photo (the keyboardist thought it was horrible, anyway) popped up in a separate window.

"I'm surprised," Sawako claimed.

"So was everybody else," Mugi muttered. She knew her father would blow a capillary over this one.

"What did you do?"

"I was late," the blonde girl scowled.

"Ah." The teacher nodded. "Happens to the best of us." She grinned. "How would you like to skip detention and head on up to Music Room 3?"

Mugi blinked. Then her bushy eyebrows shot up in alarm. "You can't do that!"

Sawako sighed and sat back in her computer chair. "True. I am obligated to make you do _something…_" After the Tabasco sauce punch bowl incident at the teachers' New Year's party, she was skating on thin ice with the Headmistress. Best not to push it.

Suddenly a mischievous smile broke across her face. Her brown eyes twinkled. "Stand on your head," she ordered.

Mugi dropped her hands down to her sides. She cocked her head, not totally understanding this if at all. She was expecting to write a sentence five hundred times. _But standing on my head…What in the name of God is that? _She looked down, gasped, and a pink blush rose to her face. She was aware of the skirt she was wearing.

The keyboardist giggled excitedly. _I can't believe Sawa-chan really wants to see my panties. But I have a terrible sense of balance…_Then she got an idea. She strolled over to the wall closest to Sawako. With some help from the teacher, Mugi propped herself against the wall. There was a temporary shock as the cold wall touched her bare thighs, but the blonde girl wanted to do this. She wanted to make Sawako aware of her feelings and desires.

"Sakura," the teacher nodded. "Classy with a touch of moé. I approve."

"I'm glad." Mugi really was, but her voice was husky with effort.

Sawako tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I gotta make this good…Um, what foreign language class are you enrolled in?"

"French III."

"Recite the days of the week."

"_Lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi, vendredi, samedi, et dimanche._" Something about showing Sawako her panties and speaking French titillated the keyboardist. Mugi could feel a sultry heat building up in her inner thighs. _If Mother and Father knew I was thinking such things…_

"Recite the French alphabet backwards."

"_Zed, i grêcke, eeks, doublè vé…_"

Once the alphabet was recited to Sawako's satisfaction, she let the keyboardist stand back up. "Congratulations, Kotobuki-san, your body as a high tolerance for alcohol. It'll come in handy at your concert."

"Arigatougosaimasu." Mugi bowed. "But, um…Why does standing on my head and speaking French mean I keep alcohol well?"

Sawako shrugged. "I dunno. Apparently that's what the health teachers are teaching everyone." She logged off her computer and stood. "C'mon, Mugi-chan. Let's go upstairs for tea."

Mugi straightened her jacket and looked up in surprise. "That was it?"

"Yep."

"No one thousand sentences? Twenty thousand word essay explaining why I got a detention?"

Sawako grinned. "Wow, you sure like being punished. Maybe I'll think of something better next time."

_Better than showing her my panties? _A shudder rippled through the keyboardist. She was considering being tardy again on Monday, just to have a detention with Sawako again. But that would be shallow and foolish, wouldn't it?

The teacher took Mugi's arm and pulled her toward the door. "Coming?"

The blonde snapped out of her trance with another shudder. She nodded dumbly and let Sawako pull her all the way to the third floor. She thought about what Sawa had said about her panties. _I approve. _But was Sawako understating that? Was she as stimulated to see Mugi's panties as Mugi was to show them to her? The keyboardist wished she could've seen Sawako's face when she said that.

"Hello, what's this?" the teacher murmured, pulling a taped piece of paper from the door. It read: _Sorry, guys, but practice is cancelled today. We'll meet again on Monday and work extra hard. Ciao! Ritsu. _Mugi chuckled because the drummer had drawn the Kanji for her name as a bunch of drum sticks and cymbals criss-crossing one another.

Mugi had seen Ritsu comfort the shaken Mio in psych today. She knew what it was. Without a doubt, Ritsu would probably visit Mio, perhaps take care of her, and then…

"Ehh? What are you doing, Sawa-chan?"

The teacher pushed the double doors open and entered. "We don't need the rest of them to have our tea, ne?"

"I guess not," Mugi mumbled, ambling in.

* * *

><p>Whistling to himself, Tokudaiji-sensei made his way through the fine arts wing. He was a tall, skinny man with large hands, feet, and head. There was nothing soft or subtle about the psych teacher's face. All his features were sharp, from his strong jawline to his proud eagle nose. He was in his mid-thirties.<p>

He'd just been on the phone. He had tried to call Akiyama-san's parents, but no one answered the phone. So Tokudaiji-sensei left a message on their voicemail explaining what had happened in psych today, wishing Akiyama-san to get well soon, and asking her parents to call back to discuss…_important matters, _as he'd so eloquently phrased it. A similar message was delivered on the Tainakas' voicemail.

He hadn't gotten his Master's in psychology from Tokyo University for naught. He knew what Tainaka-san and Akiyama-san's behavior in class today meant. He just wanted to know if their parents knew.

Tokudaiji halted in front of the MIDI lab door. Kotobuki-san would be serving her detention with Sawako-san here. Remembering the Tabasco sauce punchbowl incident, he peeked inside to make sure Sawako-san was doing what she was supposed to. _Of course not, _he thought with a snort. The MIDI lab was empty. He selected a key from his staff member's lanyard, unlocked the door, and entered.

* * *

><p>Dinner at the Tainaka residence was, as usual, a cheerful affair. Mrs. Tainaka, having taken an interest in French cooking recently, prepared <em>boeuf burgenion. <em>It had taken a lot of meticulous preparation from last night to today. The warm, savory aromas had tantalized the family long enough. Satoshi, Ritsu's little brother, devoured the beef, but avoided the pearl onions. Ritsu, on the other hand, shoveled the whole _nourriture _down indiscriminantly - even the carrots, which she normally avoided.

"You trying to set a world record, oneechan?" Satoshi inquired, sweat-dropping.

"Sumimasen," Ritsu apologized, wiping gravy from her chin. "But I promised Mio I'd be at her house after dinner."

Mrs. Tainaka checked the clock. "Well, take your time. You don't want to make yourself sick."

"I won't." But a formidible hiccup racked Ritsu's body, sending a sharp pain up her upper back. She set her fork down and slowly sipped some water.

"So, Ritsu," Mr. Tainaka sighed. "Got a call from your psychology teacher today."

The drummer froze over her plate. _Uh-oh._

Her father sat back and interlaced his fingers on the back of his head. He asked dryly, "Anything you care to tell me about?"

Ritsu chewed her dinner slowly, considering several answers. She could just tell the truth. Or she could play dumb. But her father usually had a keen nose for bullshit.

Mr. Tainaka didn't wait for her to respond. He, like his daughter, was fast-paced and impatient. He never liked other people to set the tempo of a conversation.

"He said you swore at him in class today. You know that's unacceptable."

Ritsu opened her mouth, then wisely closed it. Her father wouldn't tolerate excuses.

"He also said he wanted to talk to us." Mr. Tainaka lowered his unshaven chin. "Is your grade slipping again?"

"No." Not that she knew of, anyway.

"I think we're about due for a parent-teacher conference," Mrs. Tainaka smiled. Once every year they stopped in to catch up on Ritsu's progress. Clearly, though, neither one of them was happy about this, least of all Mr. Tainaka, for he had to hear that message on his voicemail. Dinner had suddenly become a sullen affair. This was much to Satoshi's dismay, because he had nothing to do with this.

Afterward Ritsu immediately popped up to hastily clean her plate and go to Mio's. After the little scrape with her parents, though, she felt guilty for eating and running.

"There will be repercussions, Ritsu," her father growled, cleaning the stove. "Tomorrow I'm having you...serve...some sort of punishment."

"Hai," she sighed, sluicing her plate.

"You're too old for this."

The drummer just nodded, not knowing what to say to that. She offered to help him with the cleaning, but he declined gruffly. With a sigh, she bounded up the stairs to her room. She filled her bag with a change of clothes and other stuff. She bade her family_ adieu_, then ran out the door.

Even though Mio lived less than a block away, Ritsu charged down the street at a breakneck speed. She needed to see the bassist. Badly. Ritsu had never acted so recklessly just to see someone. Was that weird? The scary thing was, it felt perfectly natural to the drummer.

_Maybe it's just because she was sick today and I worried about her_. Yeah, that was it. But at the same time, it didn't sound right.

Ritsu bounded on up to the door and rang the bell. She was impatient for someone to answer it. Still full of energy, she shook out her hands to keep the blood flowing. It was freezing, Ritsu could tell by her vaporized breath, but she didn't feel the least bit cold.

Finally, finally the sound of a latch being undone, and Mr. Akiyama opened the door.

"Hey, Ritsu," he greeted, giving her a soft, but genuine smile. He stepped aside to let her in.

When she was little Ritsu remembered Mr. Akiyama being very tall and a little paunchy, with feathery, thin jet-black hair and dark gray eyes. No longer being young, though, he'd grown thin - even his face was more sallow - and his raven-colored hair faded to silvery-white. Even in primary school Ritsu imagined Mr. Akiyama had been a shy, quiet boy for he was a shy, quiet man. Even at the age of nine she thought_, The apple clearly doesn't fall far from the tree._

"It's funny. I was just done checking my voicemail," he commented. "I'd gotten a call from Tokudaiji-san about you and Mio."

_Here we go again_. Ritsu rolled her eyes.

Mr. Akiyama smiled wryly at the drummer's annoyed expression.

"Nothing really happened," she sighed. She then proceeded to tell him about psych class today. She kept her story short out of need to see Mio. She wondered how many times she'd have to tell this story.

"By the sound of his message, the issue seemed to be resolved." Mr. Akiyama shrugged. "Heaven knows why he had to call. He said he wanted to speak with me."

"Yeah, he wanted to speak with my parents, too." Her limbs buzzed with energy. She longed for her drum sticks. Flicking her wrists, she inched toward the staircase. "May I see Mio?"

"Of course."

She needed no second bidding. She tore up the stairs.

* * *

><p>After some thought, Mugi decided <em>intimate <em>would be the best way to describe today's tea time. True, it wasn't as boisterous without the others around. But it certainly wasn't dull. A dull moment with Sawako was about as rare as a blue moon. With fall plodding ever onwards, dusk came sooner. The setting sun's rays gave everything in Music Room 3 a dusty, orange glow. It set Mugi's amber locks alight and dyed Sawako's eyes the color of honey.

"That _Paranormal Activity _movie sounds pretty great," said the teacher. "A friend of mine saw it last weekend and she wants to see it again with me. So that's what I'm doing this weekend."

"Sounds fun," Mugi beamed. "I heard about it from Ritsu-chan." She paused to sip some of her green tea. "She said, 'It was so real! There's no way it could be fake! I swear to God!'"

"My friend said the same thing. That probably means it's totally fake." Sawako sighed and toyed with her now empty cup. "It sounds like the sort of thing I should be doing with a man, I know. But all the men I meet are either married, homosexual, or have a mommy complex."

"How do you meet these men?" the keyboardist asked.

"Mostly at bars. I met one guy on the train to Harajuku. But he was on parole for something or other, so that was no good...Then there was that one guy who was a lead guitarist in his own band."

Tsumugi's face brightened. "Aww, that sounds like a lovely match."

"We were for a while." Sawako removed her glasses and ran a hand over her face. "I was fresh out of college and substitute teaching here. He was unemployed and lived with his parents. When I got a permanent job here, he broke up with me." She swung her glasses back and forth gently. The motion hypnotized Mugi. "I guess...my success gave him a complex. He didn't want to be...poor...when I was making money. He didn't want to live off my salary."

The blonde girl flinched. Talking about money always made her uncomfortable. The situation Sawako was describing was one Mugi had been in numerous times, and her father once before her...

The teacher donned her glasses. Her topaz eyes were sad, but appreciative. "For now, you should be happy. High schoolers never have to worry about getting hitched."

"Oh, I do. My father makes sure of it." Mugi laughed humorlessly. "If ever I slip up - even a little - with etiquette he goes, 'Oi! Tsumugi!'" She'd lowered her voice to impersonate Mr. Kotobuki. "'If you act that way no one will marry you!' I'm eighteen and he treats me like I'm thirty or something."

Sawako nodded. "And your mother? What does she make of this?"

Mugi's face pinched slightly. "When I see her, she tells me I should ignore my father's...BS...and not accept his charity." Her mother had, of course, used a stronger word, but Mugi wasn't given much to swearing.

"When you see her?" the teacher blinked.

The keyboardist's face pinched even more. She seemed to be holding her breath. The sunlight rippled in her teacup which Mugi clutched with unsteady hands. After what seemed like hours she finally exhaled in a low, rushed whisper, "Myparentsaredivorced."

Well, there it was.

Mugi slowly looked up. There was intensity in her blue eyes, hoping that Sawako could say something that mattered in this situation. The teacher said nothing.

Whenever Mugi told people about her parents' divorce a wide gap seemed to form between them. This was not so with her and Sawako. In fact, the gap between them seemed to be closing. Sawako leaned in and gently brushed her hand along Mugi's cheek. The keyboardist felt cold wetness spread thinly with the teacher's hand. She was crying.

Embarrassed, she looked away. She produced a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and dabbed her eyes. "Oh, this is mortifying. I don't cry very often." But Sawako could tell that she did.

Mugi sat up and tried to steady her breathing, but it was all in vain. Though her eyes were closed, large miserable tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Her shuddery sigh turned into a ragged sob. Against all etiquette rules her father had encoded within her, Mugi leaned her elbows on the table. She cried as a child would, with her palms over her eyes. She heard the chair next to her scrape, felt Sawako's hand on her shoulder.

"It's not fair," the keyboardist hiccuped. "They never loved each other, nor could they build a life together. Wasn't that obvious? She was drunk and he was rich and now I have to live with it. My father's happy. My mother's happy. But what about me?"

She sobbed for a few more minutes into her hanky. Once she'd calmed down Sawako offered, "I know this sounds outdated, but a lot of what a relationship has to do with is money."

"Well, that's daft," Mugi sniffled, sitting up. She looked at her teacher, her eyes swimming. "Like your guitarist boyfriend. Why should he leave you just because he's slower to make his living than you are? Why does that matter more than the funny, smart, beautiful person you are? Sawa-chan?"

Sawako's cheeks pinkened.

"Either way..." Mugi smiled at her teacher. "...I believe that matters more. I believe it here and now. I think you're..." She took a deep breath, for courage, and finished her sentence: "...the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. That matters a lot more than your caste."

"Oh, Tsumugi..." Sawako's face softened considerably_. There is so much more to her, and she can see so much more in me_.

The gap between them was closing again. Within seconds, it was nonexistent. Sawako kissed Mugi on the cheek.

* * *

><p>The night time hours seemed long and endless in autumn. Ritsu could hardly believe it was only ten o'clock when she and Mio got bored with their various games. The drummer had learned that her best friend actually wasn't sick, that all she had needed was a nap and she felt better. Nonetheless, Mio's energy burned low at this point and she stretched out on the carpet floor. Ritsu, ever energetic, tapped random things with her knuckles. That was the highest point of being a drummer - the world is your instrument.<p>

Again, Ritsu was struck by this odd feeling. That feeling of confusion and...it seemed like she had the desire to define something. _Define what, though? And why am I feeling this way?_

She looked at Mio appreciatively, who looked about ready to drift off. Her eyes were glazed and her cheek was mashed up in the carpet. She looked peaceful. It suddenly struck Ritsu that she rarely saw Mio look peaceful. Especially these days.

_She really is the bestest friend I ever had_. Ritsu felt lame using the word 'bestest,' but it seemed like an understatement just to call Mio her best friend. They'd known each other for over ten years (granted, during three of those ten years Ritsu constantly harrassed Mio and the raven-haired girl had tried to avoid her). They had to be more than just that.

_Maybe that's what I have to define right now. I have to define Mio._

What comes after friendship, though? It felt like there should be something more_. More than what we have_? How could that happen? They had their private jokes, sideways glances, and they finished each other's sentences. When they went to the movies Mio would bang her foot against Ritsu's leg during the funny or scary parts, but the drummer hardly noticed the bruise until a few days later. When Ritsu would show Mio something on a computer, Mio would rest her chin on the drummer's shoulder and her teeth would click whenever Ritsu turned around to explain something. How do you beat that?

Awkwardly enough, Ritsu thought of her parents. They had been buddy-buddy since high school, and she and Satoshi could never get enough of their funny anecdotes. But...her parents were more than best friends. They had fallen in love, weathered the temporary separation during college, going on only their letters, and finally got married.

_Maybe Mio and I are like my parents._

Ritsu pushed that thought away warily. That couldn't be. Sure, her mother and father had been best friends. But this was a boy and a girl she was thinking about, not two girls. Could she and Mio do that...? _Do I want us to do that?_

_Maybe this is as far as I'll ever get with Mio._

Well, that was the most logical thought Ritsu had had all night concerning Mio. But it still didn't seem right.

_Maybe I love her._


	5. Symphony in B Minor

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Five  
><strong>

**Symphony in B Minor**

As soon as Mugi opened her eyes that chilly Saturday morning the memory of Sawako's kiss crashed down on her. Shuddering, she pulled the covers over her head. The torrent of raw emotions she'd felt yesterday afternoon were trickling back into her. Between the retelling of her parents' divorce and the kiss, yesterday was too real. Too much life had happened yesterday.

Groaning, she curled up on her side, hoping she could just turn herself into a morphing ball and disappear. She wished today wasn't Saturday. She wished tomorrow wasn't Sunday. She needed it to be Monday. She needed to see Sawako again. The keyboardist had so many things she wanted to say to her teacher. _She might even kiss me again. _Another shudder undulated through her.

Reluctantly, she pushed and kicked the covers away. Squinting, she could make out blanc frost criss-crossed on the window panes. It was freezing out there, but it was warm in here. Mugi never experienced the headache of a stiff window admitting cold air in her room. Or the furnace breaking down. Or lousy insulation. Her father's money made sure of that. His money could hold together a mansion, but it could not hold together a family.

Mugi squeaked in surprise when she felt a tear slide swiftly down her cheek. She let the salty liquid evaporate, leaving a crust on her skin. It wasn't really the divorce itself that saddened her, but the aftermath.

She stiffly crossed her immense bedroom to look at herself in her full-length mirror. She didn't look like Tsumugi. Her face was puffy, as if she'd overdosed on meds and this was the ghastly side effect. Her hair frizzed out wildly. Her loose-fitting night shirt sagged over her frame, exposing one pale shoulder. One of her pant legs had somehow rolled up in her sleep. Even her trademark eyebrows were in a state.

_What would Sawa-chan say if she could see me now?_

Mugi smiled, causing the dried tear to crackle on her face. She could just imagine Sawako leaning back casually in the keyboardist's plush armchair with a hot cup of tea in her hands. The teacher would wink at Mugi over her glasses and grin, _You look so classy this early in the morn'._

_Listen. I had a rough day yesterday, _Tsumugi retorted.

Yawning, she reeled over to a set of blue painted double doors near her bed. She pushed them open and flicked the light switch. Immediately her walk-in closet was illuminated. It was a giant winding room with white walls, several mirrors, anjd racks upon racks of clothing and shoes. In contrast to the electric white walls the clothing racks were a brilliant rainbow of Chanel, Eve Yves, and Balmain. The cheapest outfit in the lot was a white ruffled blouse and a long black skirt. Those Mugi bought from GAP when she was twelve for a recital. She never got to wear them; her parents didn't allow it.

Mugi always tended to dress according to her mood. Today cried for a white button-down shirt, V-neck grey sweater, and black slacks. She selected the said items and darted down the hall to the nearest bathroom - one out of twenty in the immense Kotobuki mansion.

The bathroom was a vision in marble, from the tiled floors to the glittering white walls. On the farthest end of the enormous room was a shower stall big enough for a donkey. Directly across from that was the gigantic tub; any common person or guest would be pardoned for mistaking it for a jacuzzi. Near the jacuzzi-esque bathtub was the toilet that flushed automatically. Near that were the two mirrors and huge vanity with twin his-and-hers sinks. This was an extravagent relic from her parents' happy days. A green shag mat graced the center of the room.

Mugi shut the door and, sighing, leaned against it. With a family of three people, what did her father need with twenty bathrooms? And with her mother gone, the numerous bathrooms seemed even more excessive than before.

She grimaced at the gold carving of a beagle next to the bathtub. The beagle crouched on its hind legs, balancing a soap dish in its paws. It was one of her father's impulse purchases which she and her mother questioned to this day. Mugi didn't much relish bathing with a metallic dog watching her.

As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, clean and kempt and smelling like her strawberry-scented shampoo, she was met by one of her butlers.

"Ohayogosaimasu, ojou-sama," he greeted her.

"Ohayo, James-san," she returned with a smile. She was about to head down the ceramic stairs when he stopped her.

"Your father wishes to speak with you. He is in the billiard room."

Mugi suppressed a groan and thanked the butler graciously. Apparently Tokudaiji-sensei called her father to tell him about her detention. Mr. Kotobuki had been so furious that he couldn't even talk to her. He just sent her straight to bed.

She traipsed all the way down to the first floor. She passed the study, conservatory, and maybe seven bathrooms before she arrived at the cherry maple doors of the billiard room. She hesitantly grasped the knocker, carved and fashioned into the likeness of an eagle. She gave it three lagatto knocks, the booming reverberations making her uneasy. Then, her father's quiet, raspy voice: "Come in."

The blonde girl cranked the knob and pushed one of the heavy doors open. She hesitantly poked her head inside. The billiard room was dark, the only light coming through the blinds on the windows. It absolutely reeked of masculinity - five pool tables, a shotgun mounted over a hearth, several game trophies, and the bearskin rug. Mugi knew very well that her father was no hunter, and she found such accessories ridiculous.

On the farthest end of the room Mr. Kotobuki sat in an overstuffed armchair drinking a martini. Only a divorced man would start his drinking at ten o'clock in the morning. He was of medium height and medium build with ears that stuck out a little. He wore a red lounge robe and black slippers. Once he saw his daughter enter, his thick white eyebrows furrowed over his piercing ice-blue eyes.

"Tsumugi," he said at length. He curled his hand, beckoning her. "Come here."

Quickly and obediently, Mugi scurried over to Mr. Kotobuki. She held her breath, bracing herself for a lecture. Mr. Kotobuki's lengthy speeches had gone down in legend.

"I'm not angry, Tsumugi. I'm disappointed." He paused to drain the rest of his martini glass. "Even though that detention was over something petty like tardiness, that mark on your record is irreversible. Your choices of university are limited now, thanks to that tardy."

_So? You could buy me in anyway. _But Mugi wisely held her silence.

Mr. Kotobuki ran a delicate hand through his wispy white hair. "To make matters worse, you didn't even _attend _that detention, Tsumugi. You were to report to your homeroom teacher and you didn't. What were you doing?"

Mugi's pupils contracted as yesterday replayed itself. Sawako running her hand across her face, telling her about her guitarist ex-boyfriend. Sawako right next to her, brushing the tears off Mugi's face. Sawako's hand on Mugi's knee, her lips pressed against her cheek. _If that gets out Sawa-chan will be fired for sure. I could get in trouble, too. _The stark danger of their situation hit the keyboardist like a ton of lead. She could tell by her father's stony expression that he wouldn't let this go without an answer. She'd have to think of a lie, and fast.

"I was in Music Room 3."

Well, maybe not so fast.

Mr. Kotobuki arced a bushy eyebrow. "And what were you doing in Music Room 3?"

Mugi's jaw tensed. Her mind was racing in tandem with her heart. _Think, think! What could I be doing there that would cover her kiss and still be a decent alternative to detention? _"Rehearsing piano music," she blurted.

Mr. Kotobuki's eyebrows flattened. "Rehearsing piano music...?"

She bobbed her head up and down. "With Yamanaka-sensei. She teaches piano class, you know." Her cheek fluttered.

"And what did you rehearse?"

"_Minuet_...?" She had no idea why she said that.

The old man seemed confused. He raised his martini glass to his thin, scornful lips, then remembered it was empty. He settled for nibbling the olives. "You mastered _Minuet _when you were six years old. What possessed you to rehearse that?"

"Um, nostalgia?" _I'm sounding stupider by the minute._

Her father pursed his lips as he dropped the toothpick in the glass. He didn't seem convinced. "Well, anyways, come Monday you will serve some punishment at school."

_Just as long as I can see Sawa-chan again._

"Speaking of piano music...yesterday, while you were not serving your detention, I entered you into the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest. I also picked a piece for you."

Mugi smiled a genuine smile. She loved solo contests. "That's great. What am I playing?"

Mr. Kotobuki rang for a butler. Soon a tall, skinny man with waspish features was bustling into the billiard room.

"What may I do for you, Kotobuki-sama?"

"You may bring me that piano piece I purchased yesterday for Tsumugi..." He paused and frowningly considered his empty glass. "...and another martini."

The butler set the glass on his tray. "It will be done immediately."

"Thank you, Sebastian-san."

Momentarily, he had returned to the billiard room with the score and the drink. He set the two items before Mr. Kotobuki, bowed, and strode out. The old man sipped his martini, letting the gin burn his mouth and throat pleasantly. Then he grabbed the music and passed it to his daughter. "I know how much you like Bach."

"I do." Mugi raised her eyebrows happily. She considered the score's cover page. "_Badinerie, _eh?"

"Only the second movement." He sheepishly itched his mustache. "The whole symphony would take all day to perform. Plus, there's no way you'd learn it in two weeks."

Mugi looked up sharply. "Two weeks?"

"Hai. The contest is on November 6th." He cocked his head. "Did you have something planned for November 6th?"

"No." She knew how her father felt about light music. He would not give an inch for that concert. _I'll probably have to pull some strings..._She opened the score to its first page and gasped. "Oh, my..."

Mr. Kotobuki swallowed a gulp of his drink. "Challenging, ne?"

"So desu ne..." Challenging was an understatement. Accidentals galore, key and time signature changes, melodies that spontaneously leapt up and down the staff...and the tempo! One beat equals one hundred sixty. Glissandoes, trills, and sixteenth and thirty-second notes ruled the pages.

Her father smiled. "You're an excellent pianist. I know you can learn this."

_In two weeks? _The very thought caused a pit of worry to form in her stomach. "I should start learning this now. Am I excused?"

"You most certainly are."

"Thank you."

It was a long trek from the billiard room in the west end of the mansion to the hall in the southeast end. Mugi had no idea where the stereotypical rich person - fat and sedentary - came from. It was impossible to be inactive in this mansion.

The hall was considerably brighter than the billiard room, illuminated by several chandeliers and tall windows. This was where small social events were held. The room was carpeted, the walls painted red with wood paneling on the bottom halves. There was an immense circle of armchairs, couches, and loveseats surrounding a coffee table. The entertainment center on the farthest wall featured a huge plasma screen TV, cable box, DVD player, and advanced stereo system. Potted plants took the corners, including the one where the grand piano stood.

Mugi sighed and made her way to the piano. The billiard room and the hall were two more prime examples of how extravagent her father was. What did he need the game trophies for if he didn't hunt? Self-assurance or something? Why did he have five pool tables? Even if he were to make more friends that would still be excessive. The same problem existed for the lush hall. Mr. Kotobuki had the social life of a hermit.

Right after her parents' divorce Mugi felt obligated to keep her father company. But he made carrying a conversation so difficult.

She lifted the lid covering the keys and set the score in front of her. She leaned forward, studying the treble part. Mastering the treble part was always the greatest trial. Mugi always tackled that part first and the bass part usually just came naturally to her. She set her metrenome, aptly named Dr. Beat, to the one hundred sixty tempo. Her heart sank as it mercilessly plinked out the rapid tempo. _Plinkplinkplinkplink. _It made her a little dizzy. She reset Dr. Beat to plink out sixteenth notes to that tempo. The flawless and clear subdivision was staggering. _How am I going to learn this in two weeks?_

A fatal, claustrophobic feeling scratched its way behind her throat. For most of the day Mugi found herself just staring at the infinite expanse of ivory and ebony keys. Dr. Beat continued to subdivide at a rhythm and tempo that matched her racing heart.

* * *

><p>Tsumugi wasn't the only one experiencing a fatal, claustrophobic feeling.<p>

Ever since she was tiny, Azusa had harbored a secret and irrational fear of the dentist. The guitarist had quite the dental history to back up that fear. When she was five one of her teeth had rotted and had to be pulled. She couldn't remember the pain, but she vividly recalled the terror she felt as the doctor restrained her and forced the anesthetic mask over her face. A couple years later she had a cavity so bad it hurt to drink water. Looking back on those experiences, Azusa just thanked God she never had braces.

Presently she had a sea green paper thing under her chin and a blinding light in her brown eyes.

"Is the light too bright?" Sally, the hygienist, inquired.

Squinting, Azusa nodded. Sally readjusted the light, instructed her patient to open wide, and got to work.

Azusa's breathing remained level as Sally checked out her teeth with the little mirror. The hygienist nodded approvingly. Then her scraper came into play. That was when Azusa's breathing snagged in her chest and her back and arms tensed. Sally withdrew her tools and stared curiously at the guitarist. Azusa could see the grin through her mask.

"Come on. I haven't even done anything yet and you're already scared?"

Azusa thought to snap a retort, but reconsidered. She merely shrugged. Shaking her head, Sally set about aggressively tapping the second year's teeth with her scraper. The hygienist was reckless and clumsy with the tool, which as a result sometimes stabbed Azusa's gums and tongue. The tongue-stabs hurt the worst. Azusa squeaked, earning herself another jeer from Sally.

"Seriously, Azusa-san. How old are you?"

"Arhahh shehee."

"I beg your pardon?" Sally posed the question as if Azusa were a drooling idiot, not a girl with someone's hands in her mouth. Nonetheless, the hygienist withdrew her tools.

"Almost seventeen."

"And you're scared of the dentist? Sheesh." Before Azusa could defend herself Sally thrust the tools back in her mouth.

_This experience is really treading Mio-senpai's turf. _If the dentist freaked Azusa out, she could only imagine the bassist's reaction. _She'd probably have a heart attack. _The guitarist giggled, the sound coming out as a series of stacatto gasps. Sally chided her, then went back to work.

_How would Yui-senpai handle this?_

Yui? Well, she would probably space out and focus her ADD on a cake she was thinking about. Then Sally would bash her mouth with that damn scraper and Yui would beg for a break, a nap perhaps. She did say she disliked the dentist as well.

_Maybe she'd fall asleep right in the middle of it. That is so her. _Azusa would've smiled if her mouth wasn't stretched open. Sally pulled back and commented, "I don't know what happened, but you just suddenly calmed down. I accidentally pricked your tongue and you didn't even notice."

Azusa was then aware of a throbbing pain under her tongue. She knew she would have canker sores.

Sally smiled. "You must've been thinking about something calm and relaxing." She resumed scraping. Azusa flinched as the tool stabbed her gumline.

_Pleasant and relaxing. _Thinking of Yui made the kouhai forget how scary the dentist was. In a way, Yui was kind of a pleasant and relaxing person. Azusa snorted. _Relaxed, more like. All she does is sleep and eat. And then she says _I'm _cat-like, _she thought dryly. _But...that's okay, _she amended herself with a sigh. _Yui-senpai is...the only person who can make me feel this way..._

"You're turning red," Sally observed, still scraping. "Are you thinking about a boy?"

Azusa grunted in alarm and sat up, her head smacking the lamp. This time Sally's scraper hit her mouth on _her _accord. The guitarist sat, panting and nursing her sore head before spluttering, "I was _not _thinking about a boy!"

The hygienist suddenly turned serious. "Azusa-san, restrain yourself. I would hate to have to strap you down."

With a sigh, Azusa shakily lowered herself back into the chair. Sally gave her teeth a few more scrapes, her tongue and gums a few more pokes, the usual fluoride treatment, and then she was done. Removing her gloves and mask, she ordered, "Stay there. Dr. Miyazaki will be with you in a moment." And she left.

Azusa tipped her head back in the chair and stared out the second floor window over the bridge of her nose. Her head still ached. Yui would never react so frantically to Sally's jests. She would probably just laugh them off. _Why does everything I think about revert back to Yui-senpai? It's like I'm obsessed. _That thought made Azusa gulp. _I can't be obsessed. Yui-senpai's a girl...but...there's something about her._

The kouhai's head felt leaden. She let it loll to one side, her eyes gradually closing...

"Why, she's practically asleep! Did you slip something in her fluoride?"

Azusa's eyes snapped open. She knew that booming high-pitched voice anywhere. Dr. Miyazaki, a man so plain and fair that he defied description, had entered the room with Sally. His gloves snapped on his wrists as he pulled them on.

"I-I wasn't asleep," Azusa insisted.

"Ah, of course not." After running through the obligatory how-are-you questions, Dr. Miyazaki had Azusa open her mouth. He lightly tapped her teeth with the scraper - exhibiting a lot more prowess with it than Sally had. He was just about done when his scraper touched one of her back teeth. Sharp pain lanced along the guitarist's jaw and she hissed in agony.

"This hurts?" Dr. Miyazaki queried. He experimentally tapped the tooth a few times and Azusa moaned. "Has this always hurt?"

"No..."

Her response seemed to trouble Dr. Miyazaki. He leaned against the countertop, considering its beige and white flecked surface. His brow furrowed. It was evident by the way his mask twitched that he was muttering to himself. Azusa caught the words "...could mean that, but..." and nothing more. She sat up a little, this time being more conscious of the lamp, and anxiously inquired, "Anoo, Miyazaki-san, is something wrong?"

The dentist ceased his mumbling and looked up blankly. It was as if he'd forgotten she was there. Then his brow smoothed and his eyes softened.

"I can't say for sure yet," he spoke quietly. "I'd like to run an X-ray, if you don't mind."

Azusa lowered her chin. "I have a choice?"

"Not really." He flitted about the room, accomplishing a few things at once. Retrieving the lead collar. Activating the X-ray machine. "THere is definitely something wrong with that tooth, and I'm obligated to diagnose it." He slipped the lead collar around Azusa's neck. Its great weight crushed her chest. Then he popped some plastic material in her mouth; this was supposed to position her mouth so the X-ray machine could get a picture of all her teeth. Azusa disliked having the thing in her mouth. A plastic edge bit into a fresh canker sore and she winced.

As the machine circled her head the guitarist speculated on what could be wrong with that tooth. If it had been another cavity Sally would've noticed and told her outright. The same went for if that tooth was rotting - though, really, at the age of sixteen Azusa knew her hygiene was better than that. _So this has to be a new problem..._The guitarist wished she knew more about teeth so she could pose more theories.

It didn't take Dr. Miyazaki long to diagnose her problem once he saw the X-rays. He had most likely seen this a hundred times.

"It seems the roots of that tooth are infected," said he. "It's not bad enough to show up on the crown, but it is bad enough to cause you pain." He turned to Azusa, an almost apologetic flash in his blue eyes. "I'm going to have to refer you to Dr. Hiawata. He specializes in root canals."

_Oh, dear God..._She could feel her whole body chilling over from head to foot. Azusa knew about root canals. Her mother had had one when she was nineteen. Mrs. Nakano couldn't get enough of describing the procedure in great, gruesome detail to anyone who would listen. _Horrible _wasn't an abhorrent enough adjective to encompass all the ghastly traits of a root canal.

* * *

><p>With a heavy sigh and a gloved hand on her hip, Ritsu wearily surveyed her vast expanse of front yard. Autumn had drained the once lush setting of its colors, making everything appear gray. Even the few but huge piles of leaves were subdued to grayscale. This was Ritsu's punishment for yelling at Tokudaiji-sensei: she had to bag the leaves in the front yard. It was a chore she normally and ritually completed with her father's aide. This time Mr. Tainaka wasn't going to help her.<p>

She set about her duty at a quick pace, ignoring the fatigue that burned in her back and thighs. While she worked she let her mind wander. Thinking made a task more bearable, and the drummer had been doing a lot of thinking lately.

She speculated a bit on her feelings for Mio. Just thinking about the bassist sent a zoomy, euphoric feeling in Ritsu's head. She wondered why she loved Mio and if it had always been this way. _Well, the big reason why I talked to her was that she was so reclusive...and so frantic, _she mentally added with a grin. Ritsu had always loved scaring Mio, right from the off. It was something the drummer would probably never outgrow. _But then, to quote Mio, I haven't outgrown many things, period. _She laughed.

So, there was Mio's quiet but nervous demeanor. That was an attraction point. There was also that strength that burned deep within her. Ritsu liked how Mio wasn't strong so much as an outer show of aggression but rather in a smouldering core of tenderness and sensitivity. The drummer sometimes saw that strength come through. She liked to think that she was the only one who got to see it. _Though, realistically, I'm probably not._

This leaf bag was full. Using all her energy, Ritsu dragged the leaden thing to the curb. She opened a new bag and proceeded to fill it.

Mio had grown up nicely, Ritsu couldn't help but notice. It was amazing, really, how shy Mio could turn from an awkward, dumpy child to a gorgeous young woman just like that. It was almost as if overnight she had shot up four inches and narrowed through her waist and face. And, of course, there was the impetuous and generous growth spurt in Mio's chest. Ritsu dimly wondered what her bra size was. _I just have to say it, _the drummer thought; _Mio is hot-hottie-hot._

Also, Mio had a comely face to complement her form. Even as a kid, Ritsu had adored Mio's face. She especially liked her eyes, as cliche as that sounded. But it was true. She had those sharp, expressive eyes. They never failed to betray Mio's true emotions. If the bassist insisted she was happy, Ritsu could see the sorrow pooling in those exquisite dark blue eyes.

The drummer sighed. _She's so beautiful and I'm so funny-looking. _While Mio had spontaneously turned into a lady Ritsu had stayed short and girlish. The brunette couldn't even count the ways she detested her body. There was her small height, small breasts, and her face. Ritsu didn't know how anyone could find her face attractive. She thought it was too round, especially around the chin, and sometimes she thought her eyes looked too small and eerily beady.

_I'm Mio's best friend, but let's be honest. If I were to tell her I love her my appearance would be a turn-off. _Ritsu paused mid-bag. _Should I tell her I love her?_

"Hey, Ritsu."

The drummer jumped and her heart galvanized at that deeper feminine voice. She dropped her handful of leaves and turned. Mio stood on the sidewalk, bundled up with her left hand raised in greeting.

"M-Mio...um, heya!" Ritsu's hand automatically strayed to her yellow headband, which she readjusted. She could feel her blood rushing up to her head. "What brings you here?"

"I'm on my way to the store." Smiling, the raven-haired girl brought her hand back in her pocket. "Would you like some help with those leaves?"

Ritsu shook her head urgently. "No, I couldn't get you in on this. I got this. I'm f-fine." She threw her arm behind her head. "Thanks, anyway."

"No problem. What are you doing tonight?"

"Um...laundry?"

"That new Coldstone just opened. What do you say to ice cream and maybe a movie?"

The drummer's heart wanted to break at Mio's warm, platonic smile. _She doesn't know how I really feel. _Ritsu knew she had to be her normal, energetic self. She grinned and trumpeted, "Yeah! Let's see something morbid and horrible and American!"

Ritsu knew Mio was shuddering because the bassist was tucking her chin against her chest. Mio always did that when she was scared. That was one of the little things Ritsu loved about her.

"Uhh, tell you what," the bassist stammered. "My nerves and blood pressure are already shot from _Paranormal Activity. _How does _Where The Wild Things Are _sound? You said you wanted to see that."

Ritsu giggled, recalling how Mio bawled at the trailer for _Where The Wild Things Are. _Mio always cried at movie trailers. "Sounds like a plan!"

"Great. Then I'll see you at...how's six?"

"Six is good."

"Good." Mio nodded affirmatively. "See you later, then."

"_Hasta luego, Mio de mia._"

Ritsu watched her go, taken with how Mio's feathery black hair rippled and cascaded with every step like liquid onyx.

_Am I...gay?_

* * *

><p>AN

People mistakenly thought I had been judging Ritsu, condemning her as ugly, with that last scene. Nothing is farther from the truth; quite the contrary, in fact. I think Ritsu is quite cute, but come on. Everyone has something about their bodies they don't like. For instance, I don't like how short I am. I also don't like my eyes, despite how much my mother and wife have told me they're pretty (frankly, they look like a deranged person's eyes, dull, like soaped-up windows). So don't accuse me of self-insert here. Just because I have a character expressing an opinion doesn't mean I agree with him or her (Ritsu's the K-ON! character I have the most disagreements with; the one I have the most agreements with, and am probably the most like, is Azusa)._  
><em>


	6. A Trip to the Headmistress's Office

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Six  
><strong>

**A Trip to the Headmistress's Office**

Yui stared dully at her 18"x24" piece of sketch paper. A garish swirl of indigo, roseate, lime green, and blanc colored her vision. With some effort, she pulled herself out of her trance. She dimly considered the smudged white oil pastel in her right hand. She looked across the giant wood table to see Azusa and Ui working diligently on their own pastel drawings. This was their latest project in drawing media: select a painting and replicate it using oil pastels. Yui had chosen Monet's _Water Lilies. _While they worked their teacher handed back grades for their previous project, the charcoal still-life.

"My drawing looks like _craaaaap_," Azusa moaned. She had chosen a Gaugin piece that called for lots of detail.

Ui looked up from her Van Gogh emulation long enough to consider Azusa's drawing. "It's pretty good."

"The teacher's going to give me an F."

"Oh, I doubt that. She knows oil pastel is difficult to work with."

Yui blinked. It was so weird to see them getting along so well. Every night since Thursday she had that same dream, but some inocuous details had altered. For example, Azusa was sixteen in the dream but Yui was a kindergartener. The tension between Ui and Azusa was more heavily pronounced. It snapped between them like static electricity. Before Yui jolted awake in a cold sweat that morning Ui called Azusa a "cradle robber" and Azusa retorted with, "You gay incestuous freak!"

Yui shuddered. She'd never remembered a dream before, let alone relive one. It was so brilliant, vivid, and frightening. _Why was it so frightening? _she wondered. There were no monsters or anything she associated with fear. Maybe it was the way Yui felt in this dream - that was probably the most significant factor. She felt raw and vulnerable. Not in the naked way, but the painful way. The dream was hurting her, like lemon juice poured into an open wound. It stabbed through her whilst she slept and roiled in her subconscious while she was awake, resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments.

She looked up suddenly to see both her sister and her friend staring at her. Azusa's lips moved, but Yui could not hear what she was saying. _You gay incestuous freak. _The stinging words hit the third year so hard she nearly fell out of her chair. She tried to pull herself together and ask, "What?"

"Your sister asked how your pastel drawing is coming," Azusa repeated with deliberate slowness.

"Oh..._Oh!_" Yui giggled at her own silliness. "It's coming good. I worked hard to make it this good!" She proudly held up her paper. Her penciling was complete, but she was barely a third done with her pasteling.

Azusa sweat-dropped. "You don't do blending, do you, Yui-senpai?"

The older girl frowned at the white pastel in her friend's hand. "I don't like blending. It makes everything messy."

"But now your project looks like a preschool crayon drawing."

"It's okay. I don't like blending, either," said Ui. "You have to constantly clean the white pastel if you want it to be neat." She wrinkled her nose as she rubbed a paper towel on the tip of her pastel. Then she smirked and winked at Azusa. "Besides, given your grade in this class, I wouldn't try to advise someone if I were you."

Azusa's eyebrows shot down over her brown eyes. "Ara! Who told you about my drawing media grade? Yui-senpai?" She shot an accusing scowl in the elder girl's direction.

Unfazed by the kouhai's glare, Yui queried innocently, "Is your grade really that bad, Azu-nyan?"

"It's...it's average." Azusa seemed to deflate and sag a little bit. "There's nothing wrong with being average. Where did you hear about my drawing media grade, Ui-chan?"

"Oh, it was on the news." The reply came not from Ui, but their drawing media teacher. She breezed by their table, her vibrantly-colored skirt swishing, and deposited their graded still-lifes. The girls immediately dove into their grade sheets.

"Twenty-three out of twenty-five," Yui nodded, satisfied.

"Twenty out of twenty-five." Ui sighed and set her grade aside. "I guess that's not so bad..."

"Fifteen...What is that?" Azusa asked. "A low C? A D?"

Ui grimaced. "That makes sixty percent. That's an F."

A muscle in Azusa's jaw fluttered as her lips made a hard line on her face. For a scary moment Yui thought she'd cry. The kouhai sighed and closed her eyes. _If this was happening to Yui-senpai, she wouldn't let it get to her. _Azusa let the corners of her mouth turn up. She set her grade sheet aside. "Well, I'll talk to the teacher. Maybe she'll let me re-do it." _That F's going to demolish my grade. _She resisted the urge to flinch. She didn't want to think about what drawing media was doing to her GPA.

Azusa frowned at her Gaugin pastel disaster. After receiving that F, working on it seemed less pleasing. She set her pastels back in the box and returned it to the front table.

"Just out of curiosity, Yui-senpai," said she, seating herself on her stool, "why did you get a better grade than us?"

"I...don't know..."

A lone girl at their table looked up. "The teacher sets advanced drawers at a higher standard," she explained, "and grades them more harshly."

"Really? That makes a lot of sense," Ui nodded.

"But Yui-senpai's no worse an artist than I am," Azusa pointed out.

The girl bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged. The gesture reminded Azusa of her upcoming root canal. It was scheduled for November 7th.

Ui set down her pastel and considered the two grade sheets. The teacher had a method of having students grade themselves first before she did. This was where Ui found fault in Azusa's grade.

"Here's your problem, Azusa-chan: you gave yourself an F in each category. Why would the teacher give you a good grade if you wouldn't give yourself a good grade?"

Azusa's eyebrows knitted. _That's a good question. _She actually laughed a short, quiet chuckle. If the teacher had given her the grade she gave herself, she would have gotten a worse F. However, now she couldn't ask to re-do her still-life.

She glanced across the table, checking to see how Yui had graded her still-life. Her project was of the same quality as Azusa's, but the older girl had graded herself more generously. _She must really believe in herself. _The kouhai sighed. _Maybe I should just relax and stop worrying. This pastel drawing doesn't look so bad. _She smiled wryly at her half-finished Gaugin replica. She was about to get back up and get the pastels again, but the bell rang.

* * *

><p>Sawako jotted one last thing on the dry-erase board. She stepped back with a flourish. "And <em>that <em>is how you do compression. Any questions?"

Her seventh period music technology class held their silence. Ritsu stared dully at her computer screen. Next to her, Mio wrote something down in her notebook. A few individuals shook their heads, indicating that they had no questions.

Smiling, Sawako capped her marker. She loved it when teaching a lesson was this easy. Since the classes she taught were electives, her classes were mostly composed of petulant first years who flipped their hair, snapped their gum, and bombarded Sawako with obvious questions.

"You ladies are such a great class," she beamed, heading back to her desk. "Fourth hour music technology class spent three days on sound compression, and their test scores are significantly lower than yours. I should bring you all a treat or something."

Sawako glanced at Ritsu, half-expecting some wise-ass remark about her cooking. The drummer had her eyes focused on the computer screen, a somber expression on her face. _She got a treasure trove of opportunities to make fun of me, and she didn't. _Mio, who was usually subjected to Ritsu's irrational fear torture, looked a little bored.

"You all have the rest of the class period to do what you want." As Sawako said this, her hand strayed to her drawer, where her DS was. "How's 'The Boys Are Back In Town Coming'?"

Their final project was to record and edit a song using everything they'd learned. The class boasted a princely amount of guitarists as well as drummers. Mio was the only bass player.

"Remember, you have to learn it by mid-December if you want to record a song."

"The autumn trimester always goes by so fast," Mio sighed, closing her notebook. When she heard no response, she turned to see Ritsu with her chin in her palm, her hazel eyes glued to the screen. The bassist frowned, and lightly rapped her knuckles on her friend's forehead.

Ritsu sat up and looked around. "Is class over already?"

"Yes, space cadet, it is."

The drummer caught the note of anger in her friend's voice. She leaned forward and touched Mio's knee. "What's wrong?"

"I could ask the same of you." The bassist tried to scowl, but her tough face was holding up about as well as Ritsu's friendly smile. "You've been really weird lately."

The brunette bit her lip. She knew what Mio was talking about. Ever since her...revelation...on Saturday she'd withdrawn a bit from Mio. _I'm...sexually stimulated by females. _Ritsu couldn't bear to say _that word _with those implications. That word made her feel sick, angry, anxious, and ashamed.

Mio sat there, staring at Ritsu and into Ritsu. If it wasn't bad enough that the drummer couldn't pay for her ice cream and movie ticket, she hadn't said one word. At Coldstone she just poked her ice cream, a stony expression on her face. During the movie she didn't react to any of the events; normally she exuberantly laughed or cried. At the time it aggravated Mio. But now, after two days of this odd behavior, concern vied with her anger.

_If it was a family problem or something like that Ritsu would have told me, _the raven-haired girl thought. _I wonder if she's mad at me?_

Ritsu tapped her foot nervously. She knew Mio wanted an explanation - she knew she owed Mio an explanation. _Now would be a good time to tell her how I really feel...am...whatever. _But at the same time it wasn't. She couldn't tell Mio such a thing in the middle of music technology class.

"I...want to tell you." The drummer's voice was raspy. She cleared her throat.

"Then tell me," Mio begged, leaning forward. "Jeez, Ritsu, you're freaking me out."

Ritsu's eyes darted apprehensively about the room. "It's just...It's personal. And terrible." Without warning, emotion choked her throat, thickening her voice. "I can't even tell anyone this, it's just so bad."

_Did she do something? _the bassist wondered.

Ritsu swallowed, trying to keep her emotions at bay. It struck her that Mio very well not be a...girl who loved girls. And if she was, there was still that chance that she may not love the drummer back. Thinking of and being around Mio used to make Ritsu feel good. Now her love for the bassist wasn't as pleasing when it didn't have a prayer of being requited.

She was going to cry. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. Her breastbone ached as she held her breath. It was the bell that saved her from a grievous breakdown in the middle of class. She jumped up and darted out of the MIDI lab before Mio could see her tears.

But Mio came after her. Ritsu knew she would. They never left each other alone when one of them was upset. It was their code.

"Ritsu..."

The drummer screeched on her heels like a cartoon character. She swiftly and gruffly brushed away her tears before turning to face her friend. Her Mio.

The bassist's hands were clasped together, her expression beseeching. "I know what you're going through is personal and everything, but...please..." Her voice squeaked. "...please don't be afraid to tell me. It won't change anything."

A fresh flood of tears crashed down on Ritsu. Her eyes shining, she nodded slowly. The corners of Mio's mouth tightened, as if she didn't know whether to smile or frown. _She has nice lips, _the drummer observed. _Kissing her would be...would be...Wrong. Immoral. Gay. _That word hit Ritsu in the stomach, forcing her tears out. Shaking like a leaf in a gale, she pushed past Mio and practically ran for the nearest bathroom.

_It won't change anything. _Mio might be right about that. She might have believed it was true. But Ritsu knew it wasn't. It would change everything. It already had.

* * *

><p>Sawako turned off her computer and threw her DS in her bag. On a craptacular day like Monday all the teacher could look forward to was band practice after school. Homeroom was usually a high point, but today it was a bit subdued. Ritsu was unusually quiet and sullen. Sawako had tried to provoke her by logging in her staff account and announcing to the entire homeroom, "Hey, who wants to see Tainaka-san's awful grades?"<p>

Besides Ritsu there was Mugi. Then and throughout homeroom their eyes would drift toward each other. At one point their gazes met, and the two of them immediately averted their eyes, deeply mortified. They both knew what had happened on Friday. They both knew the risk it posed. They both knew one of them had to say something.

_What do I say to her? She's a student! _Sawako's breath caught in her throat. A ragged gasp escaped her lips. She continued on to Music Room 3 at a double-quick pace. _Jesus Christ! I kissed a student! This is bad!_

But really, Mugi wasn't just a student. She was more, so much more. They already spent a good deal of time together outside of school. And Mugi was eighteen. She was a consenting adult, and she knew what she was doing. And she didn't seem to not enjoy the kiss. Still, they couldn't pretend it never happened and skirt around each other. _We got ourselves a situation, _Sawako thought with a sigh. _We have to figure out what to do._

"Ah! Sawako-san!"

She looked up to see Tokudaiji across the hall, hailing her. Her eyebrows furrowed and her chin lowered. She neither liked nor trusted Tokudaiji. He was kind of creepy in her opinion.

"Murakami-senpai wishes to speak with you."

Sawako halted a few feet before him. Her lip curled into a derisive scowl. "Are you her messenger now?" Mrs. Murakami was the headmistress.

Tokudaiji bristled, trying unsuccessfully to puff up his diminutive frame. "Murakami-senpai is a good friend of mine. It helps to make friends with your senpais, Sawako-san. It'll help you advance up the ladder."

_Suck up to your senpais, more like. _But Sawako worried. What did Mrs. Murakami, her boss, want with her? Her mind flashed back to Music Room 3 on Friday. A pang of horror struck her nerves. Sawako had never felt so much remorse for something she did. And so much fear, too. _I kissed a student at school! Anyone could've seen that!_

Forcing her signature wise guy grin, Sawako retorted, "If you claim to be such good friends with Murakami-senpai, why do you address her as 'senpai'? Do you even know her last name?"

The psych teacher lowered his chin, his broad mouth pulling up into a knowing smile. "You sound a little shaken, Sawako-san. You nervous about talking with the headmistress?"

"Maybe," Sawako responded through tight lips, "not that it's any of your business."

"Fair enough. I'll be on my way."

Venemous silence hung over them like a thunderhead whilst they leered at each other.

Sawako raised an eyebrow. "I believe you'll be on your way?"

"Just as soon as you're on yours," Tokudaiji replied.

The music teacher glowered at the psych teacher over the thin rims of her glasses. Then, without meeting his haughty gaze, she curtly walked past him.

"Sawako-san." His voice reached her ears, bringing her to a halt.

She wanted to scream at him. She was ready to yell, _What the hell do you want, you passive-aggressive freak? _but that was improper conduct that would definitely get back to Mrs. Murakami. Instead, she turned around, her face an impassive, cold mask.

Tokudaiji ran a large hand over his sallow face, as if this was a great struggle he was not relishing. But Sawako could tell that he was.

"I know you and Kotobuki-san were not in the MIDI lab on Friday. And I know what you were doing in Music Room 3."

Sawako's heart paused, and then broke into a frantic and arrythmic gallop. _Guwuhguwuhguwuh. _She gasped and sucked in air, fish-like. Her lungs felt very shallow. _So Murakami-senpai is calling me about Mugi-chan! I'll bet that weasel tattled!_

Her throat burned, like she might throw up. "Y-you...t-told..." She couldn't find the appropriate words to express her rage.

Tokudaiji threw up his hands defensively. "Cool your jets, Sawako-san. I haven't told her." The music teacher's relief was almost tangible. "...yet," he finished with a malignant smile.

"What reason would you have to tell her?" Sawako exploded, no longer able to contain her anger and fear. "This doesn't involve you!"

"But the worst crimes are those which are committed in silence. You probably know that quote. If you don't...eh, that's typical of a music teacher." His smile broadened as Sawako visibly fumed. "My point is, I know it's against regulations for a teacher to get involved with a student. I'm obligated to report this."

_Then why didn't you? You can't have it both ways! _Sawako was about to say this, but the psych teacher turned away, dismissing their dispute.

"We'll discuss this later. Right now you have your meeting. Rest assured that it does not concern Kotobuki-san."

"Tokudaiji-san!" the music teacher yelled after him. "What will it take for you to not tell Murakami-senpai?"

He did not turn around, but continued to walk away. "I said we'd discuss this later."

Sawako's hands shook violently. She balled them into fists to steady them. She wanted to punch Tokudaiji. She wished there was something for her to do about this right now. All she could do was turn the other way and go to the headmistress's office.

* * *

><p>Ritsu felt like she had stuck her finger in an electric socket and held it there. As she staggered up the stairs to Music Room 3 she experienced a series of jolts, shivers, and then the sensation of her entire body being encased in dry lint. Though she was through with crying, her body was not. Whereas most people cried through their eyes, Ritsu had felt like every pore of her being was sobbing. And it did nothing to solve her problems. When she was finally done crying, the guilt and the shame and the worry were still there.<p>

She took a moment to compose herself. Quite a few locks of her bronze hair had fallen loose from her headband. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her nose and cheeks were flushed. The reddening of her topaz eyes couldn't be undone so easily, but Ritsu fixed her hair and let her face return to its normal color. Then she pushed the double doors open and entered.

Immediately the warm, sweet aromas of chamomile tea and _croissants avec nutela _surrounded Ritsu. Her shoulders sank to a more relaxed position. Sure enough, Yui, Mio, and Azusa were having their tea time. The drummer cocked her head; Sawako was not there, and Mugi had busied herself with the keyboard, playing a minor treble melody with painstaking slowness. Usually Mugi enjoyed the tea time with a passion that rivaled Yui's.

"Ricchan!" Yui greeted as brightly as ever. She threw her right hand forward in an enthusiastic wave. "I was hoping you'd come soon! Where were you?"

Jolt, shiver, and then the lint. _I should've thought up an excuse. _"Um..." Usually she was an expert at lying on the spot. Today she was not in form. "I'm..."

"Not feeling well," Mio interjected. "She told me she'd make a stop by the infirmary for some Motrin."

"Yeah." Ritsu nodded affirmatively, if not frantically. She threw a grateful smile in Mio's direction. The bassist smiled back, but her ever expressive eyes belied her worry for her best friend. Mio was worried enough for both of them.

"Where's Sawa-chan?" the drummer queried. At their sensei's mention, she noticed Mugi dipping her head closer to her sheet music.

"I guess she's running late, too," Mio mused.

"Maybe we should wait up for her before we begin practice." As Yui said this, her hand strayed closer to the platter of croissants.

Azusa stayed Yui's hand with her own diminutive one. "You're looking for an excuse to keep eating sweets, senpai."

Ritsu checked the clock. Two forty-five. "If she's not here by now, I don't think she's going to show up." _That's very strange. _"And we have the concert a week from Friday. We should be practicing."

Azusa and Mio seconded this whole-heartedly. Whilst the kouhai struggled to detach Yui from the croissants Mio turned to Ritsu and commented, "It's a pity Sawako-sensei isn't here. I have a few questions about our concert."

"As do I," the drummer nodded wearily, seating herself behind her drumset. "I guess those will have to wait until tomorrow."

They ran through a few favorites such as 'Fude Pen' and 'Heart Goes Boom!' Mio had played these songs so many times she no longer needed to concentrate on the music. Rather, the song became a pleasant background hum to the raven-haired bassist's not so pleasant thoughts. The verses and the choruses and the bridges melted into oblivion as Mio let her mind stretch out.

_I wish she would tell me what's bothering her. _She could feel her neck stiffening with frustration. _We're best friends! We tell each other everything! _She could clearly remember the time when things got tense between Ritsu and her father; that was when she was twelve and Mio was eleven. It was close to Christmastime. Ritsu phoned Mio to give her the play-by-play of her latest snit with Mr. Tainaka. At first her tone was indignant, then vulnerable, and then she was sobbing. Surprised by this more delicate side of her friend, Mio whispered sleepily, "It's going to be okay. Just stay on the phone until you fall asleep." And they did just that. All that was exchanged between them for that half hour were some ragged sobs from Ritsu and some soothing shushes from Mio. Nonetheless, that was a determining night for them. It was like a pivot-point. That may have been the night they became best friends.

_Maybe if she tells me what's wrong...we'll be even closer friends. _Mio smiled, though she suspected Ritsu was scared that this...whatever it was...could end their friendship. That Mio would hate her for...whatever was going on. This suspicion disturbed the bassist. _I grew up with her. We practically live together. I could never hate her no matter what._

_You hypocrite, _she thought bitterly. _Who are you to make so light of Ricchan's feelings when the same thing happened to you? _When she was fourteen Mio was struck with a sort of serendipity. But at the time this discovery was not so pleasant. In fact, it freaked the raven-haired girl out. Suddenly, after several years of wondering and fruitless searching, she'd found her identity. She found it with such ease she speculated on how come she never found it earlier. There was a degrading word for this identity. It began with an _L, _and Mio thought it subtly implied that you were a coward.

_Oh, yeah. Lesbian._

* * *

><p>"S-sumimasen," Sawako stuttered as she tentatively entered the headmistress's office. Any teacher should be as nervous to see the headmistress as any student.<p>

"Sawako-kun." Mrs. Murakami smiled as she looked up, causing relief to flood through the music teacher. _So this can't be anything bad. _The headmistress gestured at the chair across her large desk. "Please, sit down. Would you like some tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

"H-hai. Coffee, please." Sawako hastily seated herself in the chair, which was small in comparison to Mrs. Murakami's grand tilt chair. She twiddled her thumbs and watched as the ancient headmistress slowly eased herself out of her chair. She reached for her cane and made her way to the coffee pot.

"I only have decaf. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." If this was any other old woman Sawako would've magnanimously offered help. But she knew doing so would offend Mrs. Murakami. Despite her frail, bent frame, the headmistress was as hardy and strong as a tree. She had been a student, like most of the female staff members, and she had an inclination toward sports and martial arts. Karate, kendo, tai chi, badminton, lacrosse, and soccer. She was too strong to let some little filly like Sawako help her.

"So, um..." The music teacher's hands shook and the coffee sloshed. "You...sent for me...?"

Mrs. Murakami nodded slowly. "I've called you here to discuss your promotion."

The coffee seared Sawako's tongue and she cried out. Well, there it was. Nothing less from Mrs. Murakami.

"P-promotion...?"

"Mm-hmm." The corners of the headmistress's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "You've only been a teacher here for three years, yet you already teach more classes than I did when I was your age." It staggered Sawako to think how long ago that was. "I can't think of someone better to chair the fine arts department."

"Department chair...!" Sawako gasped.

Mrs. Murakami's smile broadened. "Yep. I'll bet you were expecting something bad. A detention, perhaps?"

"P...perhaps..."

The headmistress got a distant look on her worn face. "Golly, I gave you truckloads of those when you were a student...you were such a brash, foolish girl..." She smiled again. "But you've grown up so much since then. You're more responsible and trustworthy. I know I can count on you."

"Murakami-senpai..." Sawako whispered. She wanted to cry. It was such a great thing to be promoted, but..._She can't count on me! I kissed Mugi-chan! A student!_

Mrs. Murakami shook her head, her expression pained. "Please...do not refer to me so properly anymore. We go way back, you and I. I want you to call me Noriko from now on."

"H-hai, Noriko-senpai."

Noriko smiled. "That's better." She returned to her paperwork. "Alrighty, Sawako-kun. You may leave."

Unable to comprehend the turn of events, the new fine arts department chair exited the office. She took a moment to lean her head against a wall. She, Yamanaka Sawako, former class clown and bane of all teachers, was promoted! Being department chair was such a tremendous honor and responsibility. Also, it had tons of financial benefits. _Who knows, _she thought humorously. _Maybe someday Ricchan will be a department chair...if she decides to teach. _The idea of that was so hilarious that Sawako burst into a fit of laughter.

Her laughter abruptly died as Tokudaiji patronizingly approached her.

"Ah, yes," he smirked, as if picking up their conversation where they'd left off. "Why would Murakami-senpai punish you for Kotobuki-san when she has the bounty that is the punchbowl incident?"

"Actually, Tokudaiji-san, Noriko-senpai and I were discussing my promotion to department chair." Sawako paused to enjoy his thunderstruck expression. "But hey. Who am I to tell you this? You're the one who knows how to ascend the ladder."

* * *

><p>AN

People reviewing in the first edition of this asked about Mio's backstory about coming out to herself as a lesbian. I do plan to write that backstory, eventually. It's fairly funny.

Ah, man. Memories. I was seventeen, a senior in high school, when I first began writing this. Now I am nineteen. I was in drawing media when I wrote this chapter. I thoroughly hated that class. Despite my talent for drawing (and maybe because of the outsized egotism my dad gave me about it) I ended the semester with a D in the class. From there I moved on to painting, which I got an F in. Neither classes were a graduation requirement, fortunately.

(btw I just realized the principal of this place is a man. Whoops, haha. Well, at least Noriko-senpai doesn't play the largest role in the story.)


	7. Prank!

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Seven  
><strong>

**Prank!**

Mugi grimly dated the neon pink sheet of paper: 10-31-09. Just one more week till the concert, and her issues with it were far from resolved. Rather they sat so heavily upon her shoulders she was sure they'd crush her.

Sighing, she stood and crossed her homeroom to Sawako's desk.

"I need a pass to see my counselor." Mugi's voice was barely above whisper-level. It was the first time she had spoken to Sawako since last Friday.

Avoiding the keyboardist's gaze, the sensei wordlessly filled a yellow pass and sent her charge on her way. Hearing Mugi's gentle voice, slightly tinged with panic, startled and shook Sawako to her core. Those eight words sent her into such a headlong tailspin that she realized she'd accidentally written 10:45 on the pass instead of 12:45. Sawako hoped Mugi wouldn't get busted with a "fake pass."

Mugi never did. She rushed over to the counselor's office to submit a transcript order for Japan Women's University. On the way back to homeroom she was kicking herself for not talking to Sawako. The two of them had been skirting around each other, oddly comfortable and cautious at the same time. It didn't help that of late Sawako didn't come to band practice anymore. _But that's no excuse, _Mugi thought, her bushy eyebrows knitting. _I have to answer her kiss somehow. _She didn't know how, though. It seemed kind of ridiculous to the keyboardist that at the age of eighteen she could be so clueless.

She decided right as she opened the door to start a conversation with Sawako. She had the opening line right at the tip of her tongue. Looking right at her sensei, she crossed over to her desk and set the pass down firmly.

"You, uh, were quick..." Sawako commented shyly, tossing the pass into the trash.

"I can usually last longer," Mugi blurted. _Idiot! _she yelled at herself as the teacher giggled. Well, that was that.

_No, that's not it, _the keyboardist thought, her head burning with frustration. _Say something! Anything! _In desperation, she ran through all the lines in her head. _What's your sign? What are you doing tonight? Where did you go to college?_

Still grinning, Sawako queried, "Are you doing anything for Halloween?"

Mugi's wrist fluttered. "U-um...No. Usually the butlers take care of handing out treats and stuff." Her head swam giddily as it struck her that Sawako might be making plans with her. Her prediction didn't prove false.

"Do you want to do something tonight?"

"D-do something...?"

Sawako nodded. "Like hang out. Go to the mall."

"Oh!...Y-yeah. I'd love to." Mugi smiled, relieved at how easily their plan was coming together. Talking to Sawako after that kiss was easier than she thought.

"Great. There's, um, something I'd like to talk to you about." It made Tsumugi dizzy to think about what the teacher wanted to talk about. "I'll pick you up at six-thirty. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good," the blonde nodded. "Um...Sawa-chan, why haven't you come to practice lately?"

Sawako sighed. "I got a promotion."

"You got a promotion?" Mugi exclaimed.

"Yeah, and it's got me really busy..."

"You got a promotion, Sawa-chan! That's wonderful!" Mugi was beside herself. Smiling radiantly, she leaned on the teacher's desk. "Coffee's on me tonight!"

Sawako blushed from the praise. "Oh, I couldn't let you pay. You're a..." She was about to say _student, _but they were more than just teacher and student now. The kiss made them ambiguous; tonight's plans made them definite. "I'm getting paid more now. I can buy coffee for both of us."

"Aw, but I'd like to buy you coffee. You deserve it."

The teacher smiled, touched by how much Mugi wanted to do this for her. It was hard to say no to such an eager - and not to mention cute - face. "Alrighty. But I'm buying next time."

Mugi was practically jumping for joy as she returned to her seat. Her heart was pounding hotly and she couldn't stop giggling. She felt like a silly first year, but whatever. _Alrighty. But I'm buying next time. _Not only was that the prelude to a really seriously awesome first date, it held the promise of them seeing each other again after that. _I wonder what she wants to talk to me about...?_

"Yo, Mugi-chan."

The keyboardist looked up. Yui, Nodoka, Mio, and Ritsu were staring at her.

"Are you and Sawa-chan dating?" Ritsu asked.

"Ritsu!" Mio exclaimed.

Mugi blinked in surprise. "Well...We..."

"I'm sorry, Mugi-chan," the bassist apologized. Taking a mock-cutesy tone, she pinched Ritsu's cheek. "You know how Ritsu _always _asks the wrong questions at the wrong time. _Right, Ritsu?_" she growled, squeezing the drummer's cheek tighter.

Mugi blushed and giggled. "It might be a date. I guess I'll find out tonight."

"Nodoka-chan!" Yui cheered. "You have to come to our concert next week!"

"I have to come to your concert? Next week?" Nodoka, Yui's bespectacled childhood friend, blinked. Lately she had given to repeating requests made of her. "Maybe I could. I didn't know the Light Music Club did concerts."

"We do now," Ritsu sang, "because Sawa-chan is awesome!"

Nodoka smiled. It was impossible for her to not find Yui's band and their eccentric manager heartwarming. "Okay. I'll go. Where is it?"

Yui, Mio, and Ritsu suddenly went uncomfortably stiff. The guitarist turned her wide, questioning eyes to the bassist and drummer. Ritsu bit her lip and looked at Mio, who shrugged.

Nodoka's eyes hooded in annoyance and humor. "You have a concert in a week, and you don't know where your venue is?"

Embarrassed, the three band members scrambled with frantic responses.

"Oh! Of course we do!"

"It's in Yokohama!"

"It's Sawako-sensei's cousin's cosplay cafe for...for..."

Mugi turned toward Sawako and inquired, "What's the name of that cafe, Sawa-chan?"

"Hair," the teacher responded.

"Oh, like the musical," Nodoka smiled.

"Like the stuff on your head."

"Oh...Well..." The kaichou considered her four friends. Yui was so fervent that she had her hands clasped imploringly.

_Yokohama's not that far away_. "Okay, I'll go-WAGH!" Nodoka cried in alarm as Yui suddenly seized her in a hug.

"Thank you, Nodoka-chan! You rule!"

"Y-Yui-chan! My glasses...You're making them crooked!"

* * *

><p>Afterschool practice was starting to become monotonous. After hours of arguing and squabbling, Mio and Ritsu had come up with an ideal setlist. It was small, but they were the opening band. Everyday the Light Music Club ran through that setlist from the top. From 14:10 to 15:45 they ran through that set three times.<p>

Azusa struck the last powerchord, bending the strings to give the abrupt ending. The reverb from her Mustang resonated from the amp. Ritsu firmly gripped the cymbals to give the same effect.

"Not bad," Mugi commented brightly.

"Not bad," Ritsu agreed, "except Mio sang the lyrics so dully."

"You want to get up here and sing?" Mio snapped. "I thought not."

Sheepish silence followed the bassist's harsh words. She slouched over her Fender a little and toyed sullenly with the dials.

"Why so much rage?" Sawako asked. "Bad day?"

"No," the raven-haired girl sighed. "I'm tired of 'The Boys Are Back In Town.' I never want to sing it ever again."

"If we stop practicing, it won't sound good for the show," Azusa reasoned.

"And this is what a real band does," Sawako added. "Play the same songs until they want to kill the lyricist."

"Aw-right!" Ritsu cheered. "Dogpile on Mio!"

The bassist shrank away from that suggestion. She readjusted the mic stand for the forty-second time - she counted because singing was so boring. "Uhh, let's move on to the next song. Cover of 'The Magic of a Kind Word.'"

Mio plucked out gentle eighth notes - which came in twosomes separated by one-beat rests - while Azusa played the slow arpeggios. A few bars into the tune, there was no voice to sing the first verse. One by one, the Light Music Club stopped playing the song. They looked at one another, confused.

"Hey, where _is _Yui?" Ritsu finally asked. Mio then realized she had heard neither Yui's guitar nor her voice since they played their version of 'Your Cover's Blown' for the second time.

"Is she hiding somewhere?" Mugi suggested. She lifted her Triton off the stand, as if expecting to find Yui hiding underneath. "Maybe she's playing a prank or something."

"I wouldn't put pulling a prank beyond Yui-senpai," Azusa remarked, "but I don't think she could fool us so easily. Where _is _she?" the second year grumbled, scanning Music Room 3 irritably. "Yui-senpai, come out right now!"

Azusa fumed as the silence stretched out. Somewhere down the hall, a locker slammed.

"She hasn't shown one bit of work ethic since the concert was announced!" the pigtailed girl roared. "And now she's ditching?"

"She didn't ditch," said Ritsu. She pointed a stick at the table where they had tea. "See? Her stuff's still there."

"Though I have to say," Sawako piped up, "I had no idea you cared so much about Yui-chan, Azu-nyan. You act like you don't, but you really..."

Azusa's face flushed a mottled rose color. Whether it was from an overload of humiliation or rage, the second year could not tell. Furious steam burst from her ears, causing her pigtails to fly up.

"Me care about her? Humph!" Azusa turned away in an attempt to dismiss the conversation. Mio, however, could see the guitarist's garnetesque eyes swimming as she absently tapped her pedal. "She's almost eighteen. She can care about herself."

Another awkward silence. Nought was heard save for the creaking floorboards and the low hiss from the amps. Azusa was about to suggest she sing the lyrics this time when Mugi's head suddenly snapped up.

"I thought I heard something like a groan." Mugi pointed at a shabby pile of stands in the corner. "Over there."

Ritsu, Mio, and Sawako were already staring at the corner in question. Azusa joined them in the staring, feeling the muscles behind her ears tense. She heard it then: a sigh, a moan...

"It's a ghost!" Ritsu hissed. "Mio, a ghost is following you to school!"

The music room was silent for a moment. Then another muffled groan. With a terrified whimper, Mio sank into a crouch. "Go to your happy place, go to your happy place, go to your happy place..." However, this action caused her foot to crudely pull the jack out of the amp she was cowering next to.

_**SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_

The feedback was explosive. It sent poor Mio mindlessly running - anywhere, it didn't matter - with the neck of her bass clutched in her left hand. She went scurrying right to that forbidden corner. And from that corner rose a blurry humanoid shadow with messy hair...

Covering her ears, Mugi scrambled to the shrieking amp and switched it off. All that was left of the feedback after that was the memory of it which rang in the Light Music Club members' ears. Sawako straightened in her chair and dug her pinky in her right ear.

"Itai! Anyone else's ears hurt?"

Shuddering from the chaotic turn of events, Azusa nodded.

Mugi stared wide-eyed at the damned corner that caused all the melee. Mio lay flat on her back, unconscious and white as a sheet. "Mio-chan!" The keyboardist cocked her head. "...And Yui-chan...?" she murmured, spotting the guitarist in the corner, standing over Mio and drowsily rubbing her eyes.

Disorientation from the tinnitis and the events themselves kept the band from putting two and two together faster. Then, leaving their instruments, they all rushed to the corner. Mugi squatted over Mio whilst Ritsu shook her and attempted several wake-up slaps.

"You don't suppose she's had a heart attack, do you?" Mugi whispered warily.

"Nah." Ritsu pursed her lips and shook her head. "She's just passed out. She'll come around."

"She's so docile," Sawako sighed.

The drummer grimaced. "Good grief, but that was scary. Even I was a little frightened."

Meanwhile the livid Azusa was laying into the confused and still sleepy Yui.

"I can't believe you'd just nap through band practice!" Glowering, Azusa put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Actually, it figures you'd do something like that just to make me miserable!" The kouhai would have gone on ranting had Yui not silenced her with a gentle hand on her face.

"Azu-nyan...Azusa, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry to have worried you."

Azusa blinked, surprised by how sincere Yui sounded, not her usual blithe tone. The kouhai could feel her knees shaking as she looked up at Yui.

"I feel bad about all the trouble I've caused," the senpai continued, "but Mio-chan's singing was so quiet it made me sleepy."

"I figured," Ritsu snorted. "Ya hear that, Mio? Even Yui-chan thinks your singing's boring!"

"I didn't think you'd worry so much about me," Yui finished, lightly dragging her fingertips along Azusa's puffed out cheeks.

"I...shouldn't worry about you." The younger girl sounded breathless. "You're almost eigh...eighteen...You c-can worry about yourself."

"True." Yui could have thought of ways to toy with the second year, but instinct urged her otherwise. At long last, Nakano Azusa seemed ready to give up the game. "But Azu-nyan worries about me nonetheless, ne?"

"I can't help that."

"It's alright. Maybe I need someone to worry about me-"

"I _knew _you guys were dating! Guitarist love for the win!"

Gasping, Azusa forcibly broke hers and Yui's tender embrace. She placed a petite hand against the wall, steadying herself. She shot a withering glance in Sawako's direction.

"We are _not _dating!"

Nonplussed by the second year's outburst, Sawako smiled crookedly. "From an outsider's perspective, you guys look like a couple."

"Well, you're wrong! You've lost your perspective!" Azusa spluttered. Yui sighed, knowing the game was up. _It doesn't have to be up now, though._

"Azu-nyan."

"What?" the kouhai roared, whirling to face Yui.

The elder girl grinned. "Want to have dinner tonight?"

Azusa's mouth fell open. Then it seemed to flap open and closed, like a fish out of water. _Unbelievable! How can she make such intimate plans so blatantly? And in front of everybody? _She narrowed her eyes at Sawako, who had pulled a victory fist and cheered, "Score!" The kouhai shook her head. "Tonight's not a good night. I have to help my parents hand out Halloween candy."

"Aw, come on!" Yui pleaded, grabbing Azusa's arm. "Ui's making lemon chicken pasta, and there's raspberry sorbet for dessert!"

Azusa seemed to relax her guard a bit. She leaned on one foot and pulled at her black hair pensively. Then she sighed, "...Alright, then. My parents could probably manage the trick-or-treaters without me."

Ritsu snickered while Mugi splashed cold water on Mio's face. "Man, Azu-nyan, you and Yui-chan have so much in common. I mean, all it takes is food to convince you."

"Don't compare me to her!" Azusa snapped. "I only agreed because Ui-chan's gonna be there, rather than just the two of us alone!"

"Well, three _is _company," Sawako giggled.

Ritsu frowned as Mugi once again dashed a cup full of cold water on Mio's face. It did nought to rouse the bassist. The drummer took the cup from Mugi and filled it halfway with water. "Lemme try something. This worked at a sleepover once when we were little."

She set the cup on the floor next to the unconscious Mio. Ritsu then lifted the bassist's arm, and dipped her hand in the water.

* * *

><p>AN

The pee prank totally works. I did that to a friend in third grade.


	8. Sinister Mio

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Eight  
><strong>

**Sinister Mio**

When Mio came to, Ritsu's upside-down head filled her vision. Her best friend's brow was creased all the way up to her hairline. Then Ritsu's forehead smoothed and her face receded from Mio's sight.

Perplexed, the bassist sat up to find she had been laying unconscious with her head in Ritsu's lap. They were in the drummer's darkened living room on the couch. The house was utterly silent. Mio glanced out the window to see that the sun had set.

Mio blinked, her obsidian eyebrows slanting a bit. "How long was I...?" she started to whisper, but the clock in the cable box answered her. 18:57. "...Almost four hours...!" The bewildered bassist turned back to her friend, who had said nought yet. "How did I get here? Did someone drive us?"

Ritsu shook her head. Grinning at the reaction she was expecting from Mio, she responded, "I carried you."

The very idea of this was enough to blow Mio's mind a hundred times over. Her mouth fell open and she blinked rapidly, attempting to formulate a logical response. "You - me - all the way..._WHAT?_" she exclaimed, making Ritsu laugh. The drummer could hear the fuses in Mio's brain blowing.

"I didn't know what else to do," Ritsu snickered, shrugging blithely. They both still wore their uniforms. "We couldn't _stay _at school."

_She's so little, though! How did she manage that? _A tidal wave of gratitude struck Mio as she thought of her best friend carrying her all the way from school. The bassist inclined her head, murmuring, "Arigatou, Ritsu."

"N-no problem," the brunette stuttered, blushing. She averted her hazel eyes, which swam in the wan light. "I couldn't just...I mean..." She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. It did nothing to alleviate her of her sudden intense nervousness. Their intimacy struck the drummer, causing her to open her eyes and face her friend. Mio was close enough to touch. Yes, touch...It was no longer enough to just see Mio and talk to Mio. Ritsu needed to touch Mio. Anywhere. Her arm, her hair, her knee.

_Why is she so embarrassed? _the bassist wondered, studying her friend's flushed face. It was a little gauche, yet Mio felt oddly drawn in by Ritsu's dreamy stare. This bizarre conundrum made the raven-haired girl a little embarrassed as well. Her cheeks reddened to match Ritsu's. _Why do I feel this way? _Then a poignant thought struck Mio: _Could she be feeling the same way as me?_

Ritsu allowed a smile to spread across her face. _Mio's been staring at me for a long time. _The drummer had seen too many movies to not know what this meant. Trusting her gut, Ritsu leaned in a bit closer...parted her lips slightly...

_DING-DONG!_

The brunette halted, her mouth but a mere inch from Mio's. She sighed, checking the clock. 19:02.

"Doesn't Halloween end at seven o'clock?" the bassist whispered, giving voice to Ritsu's thoughts word for word.

"Yeah," the drummer replied, also whispering, "but you know how some people are. Probably college kids." _Why are we whispering? _she wondered.

_DING-DONG!_

"Coming..." Ritsu called, reluctantly dragging herself off the sofa and into the foyer. She grabbed the stainless steel bowl full of candy. A drop of sweat appeared on her head. Sometimes she wished her parents would let her shop for Halloween candy. Her mom had bought Baby Ruths. Ritsu didn't know anybody under fifty years old who ate Baby Ruths.

Two guys in hoodies and jeans faced Ritsu sullenly as she opened the door. She tossed two candy bars at them, and then closed the door when they asked for more.

She turned back toward the living room, but didn't enter. On the couch she saw Mio had also been leaning forward. The reality of what almost happened struck Ritsu. _I almost kissed Mio! _Teetering a little, she set the bowl down. Part of her was happy she hadn't actually gone through with it. _Mio would flip her wig if I forced my feelings on her in such a way. Ten-plus years of friendship could be thrown away so easily._

Mio looked up. The light from the foyer revealed that her cheeks were still rosy. "Something wrong?"

Her voice caught Ritsu off-guard, snapping the drummer from her reverie. It occured to her that Mio could very well unmask her secret without aid. That was a little bit frightening to Ritsu, and she responded to the fear the only way she knew how.

"Why're you blushing, ne?" she teased.

"Why are you?" Mio retorted.

Ritsu flinched. She gingerly touched her burning face. _Good grief, I'm like an open book! _But perhaps Mio was blushing for the same reason. That was a consoling, yet exciting thought. _There's no reins on this, _Ritsu realized. _Maybe I should just tell her..._

"Well, it..." The drummer forced her legs to move; her calves felt leaden. "It has to do with that..._thing_...that's had me so..." Ritsu didn't know how to finish the sentence. She plopped down next to Mio. The word _sullen _popped into her head just as she noticed Mio absently twirling a lock of her hair with her right hand. The motion looked neither clumsy nor awkward as most of Mio's rare right-handed actions were. "Chotto matte. Since when could you use your right hand so easily?"

Mio smirked. "I can't, but it's not like it's completely useless." Laughing humorlessly, she reminisced, "Remember penmanship classes with Abe-sensei?"

That old ghost of a name immediately struck Ritsu. She grinned. Old Mrs. Abe, a first grade teacher in primary school, was one of those unforgettable teachers. A teacher to tell your kids about.

"She was the religious fanatic, ne?" Ritsu held her tummy, shaking with mirth. Mrs. Abe was an ancient woman with a gravelly, deep voice and a faith strong enough to move mountains. Between learning about long division and grammar, she would bash the homosexuals and praise the Lord.

"Hai." Mio was genuinely laughing now. "She used so many big words that nobody understood." Sighing, the bassist dropped her smile. "She used to make me write right-handed."

The audacity of this was staggering, so much so that Ritsu forgot the answer to her own question: "Why?"

"Because everything having to do with the left side was..."

"Evil. Sinister. Awkward. I remember now," the drummer nodded. She giggled. "She used to call you something..."

"Sinistromanuel." Mio's voice was flat, irritated. Ritsu laughed and the bassist ranted, "Everyday she told me..." Mio dropped her voice deeper within her throat. "_Akiyama-san, you are sinistromanuel, and that is not the way God made you. _Who in the world says sinistromanuel? Why couldn't she just call me lefty like everybody else?"

"Probably because she wanted to feel like the high and mighty dextromanuel." It was amazing to Ritsu how discriminant Mrs. Abe had been to her only sinistrous student. Poor Mio had to be the sinistromanuel while everybody else got to be the righty...

* * *

><p>It was mid-April, 1998. The excitement of first grade was still thick in the air for the boys and girls. They had desks - <em>real <em>desks with tops that lifted up to reveal real text books and other novel school supplies. They had lunch and outdoor recess. After a year of painting and singing the alphabet, they were learning real intense stuff. And that was thrilling to Akiyama Mio, age six. _If I can make it in first grade, I can make it in the world! _she thought giddily. She closed her math book and neatly set it in her well-organized desk. She pulled out her history book, for Mrs. Abe always moved on to history lessons after math.

Mrs. Abe pulled several sheets of lined paper from a rack on her desk and proceeded to set a leaf on each child's desk. Mio wasn't the only one who was confused. Everyone stirred with surprise.

One student spoke up. It was that rambunctious girl with the high forehead who always teased Mio at recess. She piped up, "Sensei, why aren't we-"

"You will raise your hand if your desire is to speak, Tainaka-san."

Sighing flambuoyantly, Ritsu sank back in her chair, her right hand raised. Mrs. Abe refused to call on the wee brunette until she had finished passing out the paper. Mio could see from across the classroom that this irritated Ritsu.

"Now, Tainaka-san," Mrs. Abe said, coming back to the front of the classroom, "what is your question?"

"Why aren't we doing history today?"

Murmurs of assent greeted her query. Irked by the noise, Mrs. Abe held up her hand. That was her signal for everyone to be quiet. After the noise died down she said brightly, "Today we begin a new course in the curriculum. Who knows what 'curriculum' means?"

Her smile strained as the silence stretched out.

"Curriculum..." She turned around and wrote the word on the board. "...means our course of study. We're learning something new." Turning around with a flourish, she proclaimed, "Penmanship!"

The silence stretched out further.

"I can see you're...all so excited," Mrs. Abe smiled. And without further ado, she dove into their first penmanship lesson.

"_Go,_" she spoke, writing the character on the board. Mio marvelled at Mrs. Abe's neat scripture. It didn't compare to the raven-haired girl's scrawl. "What word commences with the letter _go_?"

After a brief hesitant silence some suggestions came up. Nodding, Mrs. Abe wrote the words _goju _and _gomenasai _on the board. She continued through the alphabet, compiling a sizeable list of words. Her instructions succeeding that were to write the words yourself on your lined paper. While everybody worked Mrs. Abe walked around, alienating individuals for their messy handwriting.

"You expect people to be able to read this, Tainaka-san?" The teacher held the paper at arm's length. Ritsu could've handed Mrs. Abe a glistening turd and she would have reacted with less disgust. "Unacceptable! I would expect better of a right-hander!"

Mio felt her back go stiff as Mrs. Abe approached. The sensei had never once raised her voice at the noir-haired girl, but her combustible temper had gone down in legend. Gripping her pencil firmly, Mio tried to write _inu _as neatly as possible.

Without looking up Mio became aware of Mrs. Abe's presence. The sensei's head shadowed her paper. She said nought for a moment. Then, her voice tinged with excitement: "Come with me."

Mio obeyed without question, yet she worried why she had to go with Mrs. Abe. _Is my handwriting really that bad? _She was suddenly afraid that the teacher would punish her. _Maybe I have the worst handwriting in the class! Maybe Abe-sensei's going to chop my hand off! _Mio clutched her left wrist and glared tearfully at Mrs. Abe.

Her fear increased exponentially as the teacher brought her to Ritsu's desk. Placing both hands on Mio's small shoulders, Mrs. Abe barked, "Tainaka-san."

Ritsu looked up. Her round hazel eyes glinted when she saw Mio.

"Do you know this young lady?" Mrs. Abe inquired.

"Mio-chan!" Ritsu cheered. "How was that worm in your hair?"

Mio shuddered, remembering how the gross thing slid through her coaly locks. "Huh-huh-horrible!" she squeaked. Of course Ritsu giggled at this. Ritsu always found Mio's trepidation funny. Mio's left hand balled into a fist. _One day I'll slug her. Then she'll never make fun of me again!_

"Tainaka-san..." Mrs. Abe's voice carried more authority than before. "Akiyama-san is a sinistromanuel and she writes better than you! Explain yourself!"

"Sister mantel?" Ritsu's brow folded in confusion. "Is that a disease?" She was looking at Mio as though she were diseased.

"Yes, it is a disease!" Mrs. Abe's hands fluttered lunatically. "Poor Akiyama-san is cursed by the Devil, and now she is forced to use the hand that can't write!" The sensei grabbed Mio's left hand and thrust it in Ritsu's face. "But she overcame this...this execration, and her handwriting is flawless! Absolutely utopian! What's your excuse, eh? You're not a sinistromanuel!"

Whilst Mrs. Abe ranted, Ritsu and Mio's eyes met. All of six years old they both were, yet at such a green age they could think, _This bitch is off her rocker._

"...Anyways," the sensei finished with a sigh, "I hope you learned something from this, Tainaka-san."

"I did," Ritsu muttered unconvincingly.

Mrs. Abe released Mio's left hand. The raven-haired girl started to slink off, traumatized, when the teacher barked, "Get back here, Akiyama-san! I have not yet terminated the business which I have with you!"

Squeaking frightfully, Mio stiffly turned back around. Seeing those wide blue eyes bright with tears made Ritsu's heart go out for the newly branded girl. At the same time the brunette felt angry. Who was Mrs. Abe to scare Mio like this? Didn't she know that Mio's fear belonged to Ritsu?

Quaking with dread, Mio followed Mrs. Abe to the back of the classroom. Along the way the teacher snapped up another sinistromanuel named Yamoto Chiharu. She towered above the two cowering girls, her arms crossed. Mio's blue eyes met Chiharu's green ones. And in that instant they knew each other.

"You both are aware of why you're here, ne?" Mrs. Abe inquired.

Mio was so scared she felt like crying. Chiharu was similarly disquieted, though she worked up the nerve to respond. "We're sthister mantelsth...?"

"Sinistromanuels," Mrs. Abe corrected. She gestured at a chipped round table. "Sit there a moment. I'll be with you soon." She departed to monitor the other students' work.

Mio immediately complied with the sensei's orders. After a few seconds' hesitation, Chiharu also reluctantly sat. She was a small girl with shoulder-length straight brown hair, shelf bangs, and glasses. Her hooded green eyes darted about the back of the classroom. Mio presumed she was plotting escape routes.

"Wuh-what's a sih-sih-sih-s-sinistromanuel?" she inquired.

"I dunno," Chiharu muttered, laying her head down on the table, "but I hate it. It makesth me feel ugly."

Aside from the rickety round table, this end of the classroom was sparsely furnished. Mio imagined Mrs. Abe grilling sinistromanuels until they snapped, and then repainting the walls to cover the bloodstains. She looked at Ritsu, who had been glancing back there every once in a while. _Ricchan's a little scary, but Abe-sensei could be dangerous._

Chiharu abruptly got up and fetched a dictionary. Leafing through it, she murmured, "If Abe-sthensei'sth gonna call me by thisth weird name, I'd like to know what it meansth." She halted once she got to the S's and looked at Mio. "How do you thpell 'sthinisthtromanuel'?"

Mio shrugged.

Sighing, Chiharu cluelessly flipped the pages until she stumbled upon that accursed word. "Here it isth!...'Sthinisthtromanuel: Having more dexterity in or using the left hand more easthily than the right...Awkward or maladroit.'" Shaking her head, Chiharu protested the definition, waving her tiny fist. "My left hand isth _not _awkward! Thisth isthn't right!"

"No, it is not right." Mrs. Abe came strolling back, bearing more lined paper. She divided them into two piles, each of which she thrust at the two lefties. "You are not right, but left. _Sinister. Izquierda. Gauche. Lihft, _as the Anglo-Saxons put it. Do you know what 'lihft' meant to the Anglo-Saxons?"

_Who are the Anglo-Saxons? _Mio wondered. The expression on Chiharu's face suggested the same thought. Maybe they were Mrs. Abe's Martian relations. Being that they spoke a language that was as good as dead to Mio, they sounded as crazy as the sensei.

"Well, 'lihft' means left, obviously," Mrs. Abe shrugged. "But to the Anglo-Saxons it also meant weak and worthless. And I believe that's quite true. I mean, look at how I write with my sinister hand." Precariously, Mrs. Abe picked up a ballpoint pen from the table with her left hand. She wrote on the lined paper: _Sinistromanuelism is a sin. _Meticulous she was while she wrote, but the Kanji was still jagged and sloppy. "See? It's useless."

_It's not useless to me. _Mio had been using her left hand for as long as she could remember. Neither of her parents called attention to it. She colored shapes left-handed in kindergarten and her then teacher didn't mind or even notice. It was dawning on Mio that maybe it was just Mrs. Abe who noticed left-handedness. It also dawned on Mio - and Chiharu as well - that they were different from the rest of the class. Not only different, but inadequate. Mio held up her left hand, feeling like it had made her a failure.

She looked resentfully at the twenty-nine right-handed students sitting in the front. She and Chiharu were sinistromanuel, and so they belonged in the back. Mio looked at the quiet brown-haired girl, feeling oddly connected to her. _We're both freaks, by sensei's standards. I'm just glad I'm not alone._

"You both are writing with a useless hand," Mrs. Abe continued. "And I will see to it that you use your right - and more useful - hands at all times."

A pit of dread formed in Mio's stomach.

The sensei set the two girls on the 'path of RIGHTeousness' immediately. Their first assignment was simply to write their names - an ordinary task which Mio found daunting when performed right-handed. Just holding the pencil correctly was an all-out tribulation. It was so difficult that Mio had to manually place her fingers around the pencil with her left hand.

Chiharu, Mio bitterly noticed, had no trouble holding a pencil, or writing for that matter. She picked up the pencil as easily with her right hand as she had with her left hand. In no time at all she had written her full name. The handwriting was sloppy (as all children's tends to be), but it pleased Mrs. Abe.

"You are ambidextrous," she declared to the six-year-old. "Do you know what that means?"

Chiharu shook her head.

"It means you are tempted by the Devil's sinistrous curse, but you can resist it. It is a rare gift, Yamoto-san. Treasure it as you treasure your right hand." She handed Chiharu her paper. "You may return to your seat."

Chiharu accepted the paper, bowed, and scurried off to her seat, shaken.

_Traitor, _Mio spat inwardly. She glared at her paper. In the time it took Chiharu to write her full name Mio had only completed the _a _character in Akiyama. She longed for a shorter last name.

"I see you are not so gifted," Mrs. Abe observed.

"No, I'm n-n-not," Mio growled.

"You're doing fine. The beginning's always tough."

_Unless you're ambidextrous. _She threw another glare in Chiharu's direction.

"One of the hardest things to do," the sensei continued, "is to unlearn something. The longer you do something repeatedly, the more difficult it is to break that habit." She patted Mio's shoulder. "Once you unlearn writing sinistrously, using your right hand will come more easily to you."

* * *

><p>It never did come easily to wee Mio.<p>

Mrs. Abe didn't keep her in the back; only during penmanship lessons was the poor girl confined to the rearmost end of the classroom. But it wasn't just then that Mio was unlearning left-handedness. Mrs. Abe kept an eye on her from the moment she walked in the classroom at 8:30 to the moment she left at 15:10.

"Right hand, Akiyama-san!" Mrs. Abe reminded her during a math lesson. Shamefaced, Mio switched her pencil to her other hand. "That's good. Keep on using that right hand, Akiyama-san," Mrs. Abe impetuously cheered during a spelling test. The class giggled. On days that Mio was absent from school she imagined Mrs. Abe addressing her classmates with: "Akiyama-san is not here today, but if she were she would be writing with her right hand now."

It was better at home, where Mio's sinistromanuel ways fell upon the eyes of equally sinistromanuel parents. But at school Mio was haunted by an irrational fear that _everyone _was lying in wait for her to use her left hand so they could pounce.

One day during recess Mio exited the bathroom to see Ritsu loping up the hallway. Her normally cheery face was screwed up in pain, and she held a towel to her left elbow. Under regular circumstances Ritsu would've teased Mio as she passed by, but the brunette obviously had more important things at hand.

"Anoo..." Mio tentatively called after her. Her heart rate increased as Ritsu turned her tear-streaked face toward her. "What's ruh-r-r-wrong?"

"I scraped my elbow jumping off the swing," Ritsu sniffled. She pulled the towel away and Mio cried out in horror. The brunette's elbow was oozing blood. Copious crimson stains splattered and smeared the towel. Ritsu laughed at Mio's reaction, then inquired, "Where's the nurse's office?"

Mio frowned, for she knew the answer but she didn't know how to give it. Two weeks' worth of writing with an unfavored hand left the raven-haired girl disoriented. At times - such as now - she completely lost her sense of direction. She looked at her two hands for reference. She knew one of them was left. And she knew that if one had to be left the other had to be right.

"Well..." she began uncertainly. "You juh-juh-just muh-muh-m-make a right at the h-h- headmaster's office." She extended a hand in what she believed was the right direction.

Ritsu's brow puckered. "Uh, Mio-chan..."

"Mm?"

"You're pointing left."

Her face the very picture of open surprise and wonder, Mio considered her left hand extended outward. _I always use that hand without even thinking. _Maybe she always would.

"Can you tell right from left?" Ritsu's voice brightened with amusement. "Is this a sign of sister mantel?"

Mio's face fell. All week whenever someone had given her directions she had been unable to follow them. She was a sinistromanuel - with all the negative qualities, plus stupidity - no matter which hand she wrote with. Ashamed and no longer able to contain her anguish, Mio began to sob. She crouched on the floor and balled her fists over her eyes.

"Aw, gosh...Look, I'm sorry, 'kay? Don't cry." Still clutching her towel, Ritsu kneeled in front of Mio and placed a hand on her knee. "I was just jokin'. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"I'm s-such an ih-ih-ih-hidiot!"

"Oh, no you're not. Sometimes I get left and right mixed up, too."

"No! I a-a-am!" Mio looked up at the girl who normally bullied her. Her ink-blue eyes glittered with tears. "I cuh-han't write luh-luh-l-left-handed and I never f-feel right writing r-r-right-handed!"

Ritsu shrugged. "So write left-handed."

Mio shook her head, frustrated and miserable, and buried her red face in her hands. "I c-can't! Abe-s-s-s-sensei wuh-won't luh-luh-het me!"

Ritsu jumped up and excitedly paced circles about her friend. "I knew she was bugging you! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She halted and waved her free hand expressively. "Why do you do anything that psycho tells you? I never do!"

"A-and y-y-you're the wuh-one she a-a-always s-sends to the headm-m-m-master's o-office."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Whateverrrr! Abe-sensei's crazy to make you write right-handed! Don't you know how _awesome _it is to be left-handed?"

"...'A-a-awesome'...?" Mio echoed quietly. She looked up from her hands.

"Yeah!" Ritsu flashed her teeth in a brilliant smile. "I'll bet some of the awesomest people in history were left-handed! Like...like...Goku! Yeah...or...Astro Boy! Or Pikachu!" She fell silent when she saw Mio's small frame quivering. The raven-haired girl moved her hand away from her mouth; she was smiling, laughing. "See? You know that lefties are awesome," Ritsu sighed, relieved she had consoled Mio. She extended her hand. "C'mon, let's go play!"

Still giggling, Mio took Ritsu's hand and the brunette helped her up. After Mio crudely bound Ritsu's elbow with the towel they stepped back outside into the spring. The raven-haired girl smiled, thinking of what Ritsu told her. _Ricchan's not so bad after all._

"Hey, Mio-chan, check out my new pet."

Mio turned to find Ritsu's hands cupped around a daddy longlegs spider. She stumbled backwards with a horrified screech.

"His name is Fluffy," Ritsu grinned, forcing the arachnid closer to Mio's pale face. The ebony-haired girl's eyes widened as 'Fluffy-chan,' as Ritsu kept calling it, extended a thin spindly leg and skittered silently along the brunette's arm.

"Fluffy-chan says he likes you!" Ritsu giggled. "Wanna pet him?" She extended her arm.

"G-get that thu-thuh-thuh-hing away from m-m-me...!"

* * *

><p>Waterfall tears streamed down seventeen-year-old Mio's face. "You were such an awful...wonderful...disordely person!" she laughed. "If it wasn't for you I would've had to write right-handed and go psycho!"<p>

"Hm. And here I thought you went psycho anyways."

_POW! BOP!_

"Owww..." Ritsu moaned. "You hit me twice..."

Mio crossed her arms. "One for calling me psycho, and one for that stupid spider." She sighed, grumbled, "I should've decked you a long time ago for that one."

Heavy but quick footsteps descended down the staircase and Satoshi, Ritsu's little brother, appeared in the foyer behind the two girls. He did a double-take, for he had nearly ran heedlessly out the front door.

"Mio-san looks pissed and nee-chan's got a lump." Laughing, he donned his jacket. "Business as usual, I _guess._"

"I _guess_," Ritsu squeaked, imitating how Satoshi's voice had cracked on _guess. _

Her brother scowled. "Oh, shut up. I love my cracky voice." His voice cracked a few times. Even Mio was giggling. His cheeks pinkened. "I'm going out with the guys to see _Paranormal Activity._"

Now Mio whimpered.

"Have fun," Ritsu smiled.

After Satoshi left the two girls sat in silence. Mr. and Mrs. Tainaka were at a parent-teacher conference with Tokudaiji. Ritsu and Mio were alone. The brunette realized with a flash that this was the perfect time to tell her.

Ritsu was terrified.

"Uh, Mio, look...I gotta, uh...talk to you..."

* * *

><p>AN

Reviewers also accused me of self-insert here, with Mrs. Abe's discrimination toward left-handers. Again, just because I have a character express a viewpoint doesn't mean I agree with them...and I very much disagree with Mrs. Abe, as I disagreed with my first grade teacher, who made me and a lefty write right-handed. Being mixed-handed, I had no problem with this and I was let off the hook. But that was for writing. I use my left hand exclusively for other things such as eating and throwing and batting. My first grade teacher gave me the hardest time at lunch time when she saw me eating, called the way I held a spork (heh, remember those, college-age readers?) bad etiquette.


	9. Checkmate!

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Nine  
><strong>

**Checkmate!**

Sighing contentedly, not unlike a cat stretched in its favorite sunspot, Azusa set down her spoon and leaned back. If Ui's delicious cooking was enough to make the prudent Azusa express such quiet joy, it set Yui leaning her head on the table, her chestnut eyes glazed and her expression lethargic. Azusa frowned, wondering if Ui had slipped a dose of Versed in her oneechan's portion of ice cream.

"Thanks for dinner and dessert, Ui-chan," the sloe-haired girl smiled. "It was astonishingly good as always."

"That's why I'm here, Azusa-chan: to astonish you," Ui giggled. She leaned in a little, tilting her head. "Aw, oneechan, you're getting sorbet in your hair!"

"Great," Yui sighed, her voice dull with languidness. "Now my hair can enjoy it, too."

Azusa bit her lip, vainly fighting back laughter. It was so amusing to think that something like hair, a dead thing on your head, could enjoy sorbet. _Ui-chan would officially be an extraordinary cook if even hair could enjoy her food. _She was wondering what it would be like if her hair had nerve endings when the doorbell rang.

"Ah! That's Jun-chan!" Ui stood and ran to the door. Azusa stared after her, deliberating why Jun had come over. Yui lifted her head off the table and also watched the two friends greet each other. Ui donned her coat and came into the kitchen. "Coming, Azusa-chan?"

_Coming where? _the younger guitarist thought. Her mind stepped back over the last week in search of plans for Halloween the three of them made.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Jun dead-panned.

"N-no! Not really…" Azusa puffed up as Jun's hand came to her smiling mouth. "Stop laughing! How can I forget something I never had any memory of?"

"Er, that's kind of the whole point of forgetting…"

"We're going to Harajuku to do some shopping," Ui supplied. "We made plans for this three days ago, and you said you'd come."

Azusa thought back to Tuesday. She remembered being preoccupied over a hug Yui had given her before first period. _Oh yeah. That hug had absolutely no precedent. I wasn't sad or anything. She just hugged me…for the sake of hugging, I guess…_Azusa had wondered how the embrace applied to that once-mentioned game of Yui's. _Does Yui-senpai think about the game as much as I do? _She doubted that.

"Azu-nyan, why are you staring at me like that?" Yui giggled.

The noir-haired kouhai started, unaware she had been staring. As if in an attempt to undo that incident, she forced her eyes away from Yui. Neither of them noticed Ui's questioning brown eyes drifting from Azusa to Yui.

Jun tapped her foot impatiently. "Soooo…Are we gonna go?"

"I'm ready," Ui said faintly. A broody expression crossed her face as she took a pregnant pause. "Azusa-chan." Ui forced the name out, sounding like she had been hit in the stomach. "Are you going to go with us or stay with oneechan?"

Azusa considered her options. It was poor enough form to forget their plans; to blow them off would be worse. Her parents raised her to be better than that. _But to stay the night with senpai again…_Azusa looked at Yui — consciously this time — and felt her heart spring. Her stomach was throbbing against her ribs. It was the same feeling she got right before a concert, yet it felt totally alien to the kouhai.

"I want to stay with senpai," she blurted. Something inside her — a burning, tingling spark in her torso — urged her to say that.

"Yay!" Yui cheered, racing around the table to squeeze Azusa. "Now I have Azu-nyan to watch my DVD with!"

Ui looked disappointed. "Well…Maybe next time?"

"Yeah." Azusa nodded, which was difficult with Yui pressed close to her. "We can hang out at my house and play Trivial Pursuit or something." It seemed polite to do a raincheck.

Ui nodded, her expression still somber. She hesitated before heading out with Jun. The door closed behind them and there was a silence heavy with anticipation.

_I think I lost the game, _Azusa thought, settling closer to Yui. _But this doesn't feel like losing. When I'm in senpai's arms I don't feel like I've lost anything._

"You…said you rented a DVD?" she whispered.

"Yep." The elder girl paused. "Well, actually, Ui rented _Beowulf _off Netflix for me."

"_Beowulf…_?" Azusa pulled back and looked at Yui. _I didn't know Yui-senpai was into movies like that. _A vague thought of third years reading _Beowulf _for lit classes scraped her mind. She frowned. "Hey, wait a second! You're just watching it so you don't have to read the book!"

"Not really. I'm taking British Literature next trimester." Yui got up and skipped over to the TV. "Ricchan and Mio-chan took Brit Lit in the spring trimester, and they say we're reading _Beowulf _first."

Azusa followed Yui into the TV room and seated herself next to the senpai on the floor. She personally thought it would be more fun to read the book and then watch the movie, if not for the simple joy of reading but to compare and contrast your view of the book with the producer's. But Yui was Yui, and she wasn't going to change. _I hope the movie's good._

* * *

><p>"…She doesn't know what she's doing," Ui sighed for the umpteenth time that night. "She just doesn't know what the devil she's doing."<p>

Jun patiently sipped her hot chocolate. Ever since they boarded the train to Tokyo, Ui had gone on and on about Azusa's snap decision to stay with Yui. This turned into a rant about Yui's lack of common sense. Ui was very thorough in her lecture. She left no stone unturned. Eventually, though, she became repetitive and turned the same stones over and over. And Jun got the feeling she hadn't reached her point yet. Ui seemed wary to reach her point.

"Azusa-chan's not very gentle to oneechan," Ui continued, readjusting some hairs that had flown loose of her hairtie. "I mean, you should've seen her wake-up method last week!"

"She slung Yui-chan over her shoulder," Jun chuckled. "You told me about that." At first the account had surprised her; now, it amused her. She couldn't picture little Azusa carrying someone bigger and older than her.

"That was way too harsh for oneechan." Ui shook her head disapprovingly. "Azusa-chan could've woken her up without such unnecessary force."

Jun shrugged. "Maybe it was necessary to her. She probably wanted to save time. You know how wasting time aggravates Azusa-chan." Ui started to say something, but Jun sidestepped so she was facing her distressed friend in the busy Harajuku plaza. "Did you ever think maybe Azusa-chan did you a favor? Isn't it easier to wake up Yui-chan nowadays?"

"Yes." Ui's young face looked crestfallen, melancholic even. "But that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

Ui stared at her shoes, her brown eyes swimming in the city lights. A biting autumn wind ruffled her hair. The cacophony of cars, buses, and cityfolk blended into the background. Just as the point struck Jun, giving past events and conversations much more clarity, Ui solemnly stepped around her and continued onward. Jun ran after her and caught her by the arm. When Ui faced her once more the darker-haired girl proclaimed, "You love Yui-chan in…_that way_, don't you?"

By the way Ui's cheeks flushed and her mouth tightened, Jun could tell she'd hit it right on the mark. "I love her in every way," the ponytailed girl said quietly. They continued walking, Ui not daring to meet Jun's gaze.

"You love Yui-chan in that way, and you're afraid Azusa-chan will steal her from you."

That sentence caused fire to flare in Ui's head, scalding away her core of sensibility. She shoved her fists into her coat pockets, glaring. Suddenly she was as easy to read as a Dr. Seuss book. "I'm not afraid," she muttered. "I'm just worried about oneechan."

Jun snorted. "Codswallop. If you were really worried you wouldn't be going out."

"I couldn't blow you off!" Ui snapped. "Glad to see you appreciate it, though," she added snottily.

Jun could've pointed out that Ui was more than happy to blow her off last month when Yui came down with the flu. It was a good retort. But a better part of her told her not to say that. Instead she took a more indirect approach. "Why are you yelling at _me?_"

"Because you're getting on my nerves." Ui's voice broke. Jun saw her gruffly dash a sleeve across her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Look. Next spring oneechan's going away to JWU. Not only will I be home alone, all by myself, but I'll have this worry that oneechan won't make it at uni."

"And what does this have to do with Azusa-chan?"

"Everything! She's making oneechan grow up too fast! Oneechan doesn't need a girlfriend. She's got me."

Jun resisted the urge to smile. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," said Ui with a sense of finality, as if she never got jealous.

"Everybody gets jealous, Ui-chan."

"Not me." She scowled at Jun. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because," Jun laughed, "I've never seen you get like this. You're actually being pigheaded. Usually Azusa-chan's the stubborn one." Jun knew that last sentence would whip Ui into shape. If she was jealous of Azusa, she would not want to lower herself to the guitarist's level.

"There's nothing wrong with being jealous," Jun sighed. "I understand you're worried about your sister going away. And now with Azusa-chan getting involved with her, it seems like she's going away even sooner." Ui took a deep breath and Jun patted her shoulder. "But Yui-chan will still need you. That will never change, no matter how involved she gets with Azusa-chan. There's still room in her heart for you."

Ui's face softened and she looked at her friend appreciatively. "Thanks, Jun-chan. That really helped me."

"U-uh! Well…I…" Jun blushed and looked away. Affection only embarrassed her when it was returned. "You're welcome."

* * *

><p><em>This is <em>really _bad, _Azusa thought, _but Yui-senpai seems pretty into it. _Ui once told her that Yui always got involved with movies, no matter how terrible they were. This was true right now. Yui, looking much like an American watching the Superbowl, pumped her fists and goaded Beowulf on.

"Alright! That did it!" Yui cheered. Azusa cringed as Beowulf punched out Grendel's eardrum. _Sick. _To fight his enemy equally, as all noble men do, Beowulf had stripped away all his armor, weapons, and clothes. Azusa rolled her eyes as yet another prop blocked out view of the hero's pintel. Not that she much wanted to see it, but the blocks were all so lame and cheesy. A sword, a cloud of steam, someone's head. Also, the movie was clearly CG, and it wasn't just Grendel. There was something digitally unnatural about the way Beowulf and his band of Geats moved. _This is why it's better to read the book, _Azusa thought. _Because the movie just sucks._

"Great movie, huh, Azu-nyan?" Smiling brightly, Yui looked at her kouhai friend. The two of them were sitting on the floor, their backs to the couch.

"I'm sorry, but no," Azusa responded, pursing her lips. "It's just…stupid. It doesn't do the book any justice."

"Oh." At first Yui looked disappointed that the black-haired girl didn't share her enthusiasm for _Beowulf _the movie. Then she smiled and spoke, "So the book's better, huh?"

Azusa's burgundy eyes flicked away. "It probably is…" She was currently enrolled in American Lit — she had taken Japanese Lit last year — and the only decent movie she'd seen which was adapted from a book was _Of Mice and Men._

"Ricchan says a lot of great literature is overrated," said Yui conversationally. "She hated Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales._"

The kouhai snorted. "That's because Ritsu-senpai thinks Akamatsu Ken is one of the cornerstones of Japanese literature. I'll bet she never even read anything by Ariyoshi Sawako or Abe Koubou."

"Mehh," Yui shrugged. "Who am I to expect everything out of one book or movie?"

Azusa regarded the TV screen, contemplating what the older girl had said. _Who are any of us to expect everything? _Was she, Nakano Azusa, arrogant for expecting _Beowulf _the movie to be Oscar material? _Beowulf _the book never won any awards.

She shook her head. _Good God, look at me hanging on to everything this goofball says. She's the one who got a cold last year from wearing a spring yukata in the dead of winter. _Without turning her head, she looked at Yui. The senpai was paying rapt attention to the encounter with Grendel's mother (who, Azusa noted with some amusement, was played by Angelina Jolie). _Who am I to expect anything more from Yui-senpai?_ Azusa smiled, thinking, _Yui-senpai has everything I need. I'm studious and she's laidback. Maybe we complete each other._

Yui giggled and her cheeks pinkened. "Azu-nyan, you're staring at me again."

"G-gomenasai!" Azusa squeaked, looking away.

Now it was Yui's turn to stare. Her father used to say that each track in Yui's mind ran maybe three seconds at most. Only this time the senpai's disconcertian did not dwindle. Every beat of her heart renewed the embarrassment afresh. _I've never felt this way, _she thought, touching her warm cheeks.

"Why are _you _staring at _me?_" Azusa squawked, scooting away a little.

"I'm…embarrassed…?"

"That's a reason to stop staring at me, Yui-senpai." Blushing, Azusa glowered at the TV. She didn't even know what was happening in the movie anymore. _It's a crappy movie anyway. _Her heart and stomach were acting up again. Azusa realized how badly she wanted to tell Yui about this feeling. Maybe the senpai was feeling the same way; she'd said she was embarrassed. _That we're feeling the same way at the same time, _the pigtailed girl thought, _what does that mean?_

That mental proof she'd worked out last week in geometry didn't lie.

_Are we in love?_

Azusa gasped and her eyes widened. _Love. _Terrified, she tried to push that word away, but it hung on like a pushy cat in your lap. The kouhai had always prided herself in being more rational than yer average. She could never be so frivolous as to fall in love.

_And besides, Yui-senpai's a girl. This sort of stuff just doesn't happen! _But Azusa knew it did. She remembered running an errand with her father to the hardware store, where they'd seen an eccentric woman who was pierced, tatted up, had pixie-short hair and lumbered around in a plaid flannel shirt. Azusa and Mr. Nakano had drawn their own conclusions about this woman — he had called her a dyke.

Fear beset every inch of Azusa's body and she shuddered. _I am just like that woman! _She pictured herself with short hair and flannel. The image horrified her more than that of Beowulf punching out Grendel's eardrum.

Yui cocked her head, watching Azusa shudder. The younger girl looked absolutely shell-shocked by something. _Poor Azu-nyan, _she thought, her fiery heart warming up for the kouhai. _She's always so stressed out. _Fortunately Yui knew how to make her relax. She inched closer to Azusa and wrapped her arms around her. Before Azusa knew it, the shuddering had stopped. She relaxed her shoulders. It was distressing, though, that she had calmed down. _The only reason I calm down for her is because…is because…I'm gay for her!_

"This so is not right," the kouhai grunted.

"What's not right?" Yui whispered.

"What I'm feeling right now."

The senpai sucked in her breath, feeling her heart accelerate. Zero to sixty was an understatement. She had a fierce anticipation for what was coming. It both excited her and frightened her. She pulled Azusa closer, finding comfort in how soft and cuddly her guitarist friend was.

"Yui," Azusa said quietly. 'Why do you always hug me?"

Little did she know, she was playing the game, moving her trusty queen-piece into play. Yui was in check.

Her heart still racing, Yui smiled, "Because you're so cute, Azu-nyan." Out of check.

"Really? Because lately I've thought there was another reason." Azusa shifted a bit so she was facing Yui. She brought her arms up around the senpai's shoulders. "The same reason, in fact, that you make me feel so relaxed." Rationality betrayed the second year in favor of emotion, which reached up through her chest and into her throat. "Please, Yui…senpai." It had struck her to call the brunette 'Yui-chan,' and that startled her. "Let's stop playing games and be honest."

"What are you saying, Azu-nyan?"

"I'm saying…" Azusa squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them they swam in the TV light. She couldn't do this. She couldn't say it. "I know I was not very friendly when we first met. You were nice to me and I was not nice back. And that probably made you think that I didn't…that I wasn't…"

This was hopeless. Her heart was pounding hard and fast. She wasn't getting enough air. Her small hands twitched spasmodically.

"You maybe thought that I didn't like you, but the thing is…"

Oh, God. She was going to suffocate in the middle of her confession. Was that possible?

"But the thing is, maybe I didn't mean that at all. Maybe it turned out to mean…the completely opposite thing." Was she still speaking Japanese? Were sentences coming together?

"So, what I'm saying is, I wish I hadn't acted that way toward you. I wish I hadn't acted like I didn't love you or didn't care, because I really do…I really do…not feel like I seemed I might feel."

She looked at Yui with pleading eyes. She had tried, she really had. She was afraid it was the best she could do.

Yui's eyes were as full as Azusa's. "Azu-nyan…" She seemed to understand it was the best the kouhai could do. Azusa could smell her florid sweet girl smell. She felt like she might faint.

Yui's face was right there, beautiful and shadowy in the flickering light. Her lips were right there. With a courage possessed somewhere not within her body, Azusa leaned forward ever so slightly and kissed Yui. It was a kiss and a question.

The senpai answered the question by pulling Azusa closer. The two of them clinched, pressing their faces and chests and thighs together. Yui tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Azusa was shuddering again, but this time for a completely different reason. A falsetto groan escaped her throat, muffled by Yui's mouth. On the TV a battle raged, but both girls were oblivious. They could only hear each other. They could only smell, taste, and feel each other.

Out of a need to breathe, they broke off the kiss. A string of saliva was the only thing connecting them — it was difficult to tell where Azusa's ended and Yui's began. The kougai in her storm of emotions expected Yui to maybe crow something about how much fun kissing was. But actually the senpai looked how she felt: pleasantly stunned. _I've never been this in sync with someone. _Still shaking with pent-up emotion, Azusa rested her head on Yui's shoulder. The brunette sighed and leaned into her, her shiny brown eyes focused on the TV screen without seeing it. This experience and these feelings were beyond her usual actions and words. For the first time, she didn't know what to say.

"I never…I never…"

"Me neither," Azusa whispered.

Yui smiled, and her shock melted away. In its place burned such intense fiery passion that the senpai could hardly sit still. She started giggling. It occurred to her that Azusa had that same passion burning in her, but she was trying to keep a rein on it.

"What's so funny?" Azusa queried softly.

But Yui kept giggling, unable to work up a response. Her mirth confused and eventually enraged Azusa.

"Oi! How can you act in such a way after we…after we…" She gulped and lowered her chin.

"I don't know…Heeheehee…I'm just happy, I guess. Aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" But Azusa knew what Yui meant. Love didn't have to be serious all the time. Her shuddering seemed to dissipate and she found herself laughing as well. _I can't believe she loves me after that confession! I probably looked and sounded like I was going to die! _She laughed harder.

It had taken a week full of doubt and fear, but Azusa realized what the game was. It wasn't something people won or lost. It was something you played just for the fun of playing.


	10. The One

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Ten  
><strong>

**The One**

Mr. Tainaka's mouth tightened at the sight of Tokudaiji, his daughter's psychology teacher. He was much younger than Mr. Tainaka, skinnier, and had more hair on his head. Tokudaiji had bulging blue hypnotic eyes and a semi-permanent frown on his face. He was dressed really nice, too. Mr. Tainaka wished he had something nicer to wear.

"Tokudaiji-san! I am truly sorry!" He started bowing frantically. "Trust me and my wife, we did not raise our daughter to behave that way!"

"No hard feelings, Tainaka-san," Tokudaiji said softly. He sounded uncomfortable.

"Just so you know," Mr. Tainaka continued, "we punished her. Severely. She's learned her lesson. But you may also punish her any way you see fit!"

Tokudaiji shook his head. "I didn't punish her. Ritsu-san's actually a very pleasant girl and a...decent if not laidback student."

Mrs. Tainaka smiled. "Really? Well, we're very happy to hear that." She wondered why she and her husband were here. _Did Tokudaiji-san really have us come all the way to Sakura High School to tell them that Ritsu was a nice girl? "_Is she doing okay in class? She never really tells us, so..."

"She does fairly well. She's a lot more outspoken than the others. She gets an A for participation. She's missing quite a few homework assignments, though, and those add up."

"Ah, sorry. Can she make those up somehow? Maybe do some extra credit work?"

"Maybe." Tokudaiji sighed, his face turned thoughtfully toward the ceiling. Then he addressed the parents again, looking for all in the world like U.S. President Obama reading off his teleprompters. "I'll be honest. The issue here isn't your daughter, really. It's more Akiyama-san."

"Mio-chan?" Mrs. Tainaka blinked. "Well, then, why didn't you call _her_ parents? Why are we here?"

"It's the issue Ritsu-san has with Akiyama-san."

Mrs. Tainaka was really confused. What issue would Ritsu have with Mio? They were thick as thieves, the two of them. They could tease each other as harshly as they wanted to, and it was okay.

"Are you talking about how Ritsu teases Mio-chan? That's just what they do."

"Hm, yes. 'Teasing,' we could call it that..."

"Call what that?" Mr. Tainaka asked. He noticed Tokudaiji flinch when he spoke. The psychology teacher sounded confident enough when speaking to Mrs. Tainaka. Now that confidence shriveled up like a raisin in the sun.

"Ritsu-san's very aggressive when it comes to her..._devotion _to Akiyama-san. It was that very devotion, that unnatural attraction between two girl friends, that pushed her to say such crass things to me."

Mr. Tainaka's eyebrows knitted. He felt like he was missing something. Tokudaiji, he was quickly figuring out, was full of empty confidence. The poor bastard probably had nothing to live for save for the oblique sentences he tossed out. Mr. Tainaka hated to think that Tokudaiji may have been taking his anger about his shortcomings out on Ritsu. He didn't disagree with the psych teacher about Ritsu being devoted to Mio. It was the 'unnatural affection' and 'teasing' bits he didn't care for. Perhaps this was a more-than-platonic affection? And what about the teasing? A voice in the back of Mr. Tainaka's mind whispered, _The very same teasing that pushed you and your wife to make Ritsu and Satoshi._

"Are you saying my daughter's a lesbian?" The words ripped from the old man's mouth in an angry roar. Tokudaiji squeaked frightfully and scooted his computer chair back against the wall. Encouraged by the teacher's milksoppery, Mr. Tainaka stood and leaned his powerful hands against the desk. "How dare you!"

"Uh, honey...?" Mrs. Tainaka whispered, touching his arm. Her husband, however, couldn't be stopped. He was, after all, where Ritsu got her temper from.

"How dare you disturb mine and my wife's relaxing day, pull us all the way out here just to tell us that our only daughter is a...is a..._HOW DARE YOU!" _He could feel hot pressure squeezing his head. He raised a fist. "I oughta punch your lights out, you creep!"

Tokudaiji's hands flew up to cover his face. He crunched his little shoulders up to his head. Suddenly Mr. Tainaka felt some of his anger dissipate. _How pathetic, _he thought, watching Tokudaiji cower in his chair. _I can't hit this guy._

The psych teacher, seeing Mr. Tainaka relax his stance, smirked. "But I see you're not going to 'punch my lights out,' as you so crudely put it. I figured you were nought but talk."

"Slander my daughter and you might not talk again," the old man snarled. He laughed humorlessly. "And _I _figured you fought like a girl. Let's go," he snapped at Mrs. Tainaka, who promptly jumped up.

After they left Tokudaiji snorted like a scrawny cat that was beaten in a brawl. _What a nice family, _he thought. _Probably should've called in Akiyama-san's family. If her father's anything like her, he probably would've been easier to deal with._

* * *

><p>Mio's heart thundered as she watched Ritsu pace in front of the couch. The drummer had turned the lights on, making it all the easier to see her nervous silouhette. Mio didn't know what Ritsu was so anxious about telling her, but she knew it had to be the most important thing in their lives. The bassist just wished Ritsu could work up her nerve faster.<p>

"Would you like to sit?" Mio offered.

"I don't think I can," Ritsu gasped. She was pacing an ultra-tight circle now. Watching her made the raven-haired girl dizzy.

"You don't have to be so nervous, Ritsu," she smiled. "It's just me."

_No, it's not just you. You are so much more than just you. _Ritsu's head was pounding heatedly. Her headband was squeezing it too tight. Even though her blazer was unbuttoned it still hung onto her, weighing down her shoulders, making it difficult to breathe. She took it off and threw it on the floor.

_I wonder if she's pregnant? _Mio thought. She'd watched a program on teenage pregnancy. There was a girl on the program who was so freaked out that she told absolutely no one. _But she's probably not. If she had been sleeping with someone, she would've told me._

"Ritsu, what you want to tell me...it can't be worse than when I told you I threw a hammer through old man Wanatabe's window."

The drummer giggled, recalling that memory. Thirteen-year-old Mio running up to her, tearful, crying, "I threw a hammer at Wanatabe-jiichan!" Mio throwing a hammer. Ritsu had always wished she could have been there to see that. _And what about the time she yelled at that one girl for putting my sticks through a pencil sharpener? _That was hilarious. Ritsu was genuinely and fully laughing right now, and Mio was laughing with her. Good times. Such great times. The brunette was afraid that there would be no more good times with Mio if she told her the truth. She would never get to talk to Mio, make her laugh, tease her, see her frightened face, or get punched by her ever again.

"Oh, I can't do this..." she whimpered. She sank to a crouch on the floor. Her vision bended and blurred, and her head grew hot. She didn't want to cry in front of Mio, but she couldn't help herself. Ritsu was so consumed with misery that she wouldn't have been able to notice a dinosaur passing through her living room, let alone Mio crouching in front of her.

"Shh, it's okay." The bassist placed a gentle hand atop Ritsu's head.

"It's not okay," the drummer whimpered. Her inhibitions were being shed with her tears, such as it was when Ritsu cried with such abandon. It was going to come out, all of it, in the most inconvenient and ridiculous way. "It's really not okay, Mio!"

"Please, tell me." Ritsu gasped when she heard her friend snuffle. She hoped and wished she had imagined it. "You've had me worried all week, and I just..." Mio's alto voice faltered, and then buckled completely. "...can't take it anymore."

Ritsu forced herself to look at her best friend's gloomy face, her dove-colored eyes glimmering with tears. This wasn't cutesy crying. This was not moe-moe-kyuun. This was outright horrible. And it was the drummer's fault. _I made Mio cry._

"I mean," Mio wept, "I know you were sad and everything, but..." She squeezed her eyes shut, unleashing another round of sobbing. Enormous tears squeezed out from her closed eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "...did you ever," she gulped, "stop to think about how I was feeling?"

_No, I hadn't, _Ritsu realized. She was so preoccupied with loving Mio and trying to sort out these complicated new emotions that she'd turned a blind eye to the object of her affections. The drummer was baffled. Love was supposed to be about going out of your way to do anything and everything for the person you loved. _How could I be so selfish? _"I'm sorry, Mio."

"It's alright," the bassist sniffled, looking away.

"I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have ignored your feelings the way I did. I don't want to do that to you, Mio."

"You don't have to apologize. Just please tell me what's wrong. I can help you."

Ritsu had a choice. She could muddle things up more, say, "No, you can't help me," and make Mio more worried and miserable. Or she could just face it. She could just march right into the ugly middle. _If you don't, _she told herself, _you'll end up flat against the wall, creeping fearfully around the edge your whole life._

Her head was going to explode. She could feel that stupid headband muscling all of last week's pain and heartache into a solid core of agony in her forehead. She imagined it closing off much-needed arteries and veins in her brain. Could a girl suffer a stroke from wearing a too-tight headband? Ritsu frantically tore it off and flung it across the room. She could hear it knocking sharply off the farthest wall. However, she could not see it, for a sudden cascade of fuscous hair descended on her vision. She made no effort to part her bangs, just let them drape over her ocher eyes. She felt safer this way.

"The reason I've been acting this way..." She said it fast so she wouldn't be able to stop. "...is because last week I found out I like girls."

Ritsu couldn't see Mio's reaction, but she could hear it. The bassist's breathing was still erratic from crying, but it seemed to have calmed down a little. The drummer was overcome by intense fear and curiosity. She parted her bangs and looked at Mio. Her friend's blue-gray eyes glistened, but there were no tears.

"That was what...you were freaking out about...?" Mio asked softly.

Ritsu nodded. Well, that was only part of what had her freaked out.

Mio sighed with relief, resting her chin on her knees. So...No one died. Nobody was pregnant. Ritsu was having issues with her identity. Mio remembered what that felt like. She remembered sitting up at night, trying to discredit her sneaking fears that she was homosexual until she had run out of ways to discredit them. She remembered wanting to tell someone, to make it official, but it had been too scary. Her parents were loving and supportive, but they were also conservative. Mio remembered the deep sense of fraudulence listening to her mother talk about boys when the bassist had no interest in them. She oddly remembered Ritsu making no mention whatsoever of boys either. Mio and Ritsu were the only ones they had in each other's lives.

Mio spoke up. "That must have been insanely difficult for you to cope with."

The drummer exhaled and brushed her tears off her face. "You have no idea..."

"Yes, I do."

Ritsu looked up. Under her shadow of bangs Mio saw her hazel eyes glint with intrigue. "You do?"

Mio smiled wistfully. "I've wanted to tell someone what you just told me for years."

"Years?" the drummer exclaimed, her eyes wide. She parted her bangs into a cowlick. She felt a little ridiculous now with them down. She had always thought she looked like a bald man with a comb-over with them down. "How many years?"

Mio's eyes flickered toward the ceiling. The fact that she had to stop and think about it was appalling to Ritsu. "Maybe like four. Something like that."

The noir-haired girl watched as Ritsu settled into a sort of gloom. The drummer's eyes were hooded, and she stared broodily at the floor. She mashed her lips together and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Mio asked.

"I feel stupid. You've kept this to yourself for four years without shedding a tear, and here I am throwing a fit over one dumb little week." Mio opened her mouth to say something, but Ritsu continued, "I wasn't even aware that you were grappling with such a thing. And you did everything for me in my time of need." The tears came back to the drummer's round eyes; they glittered with them. "I'm such a terrible, selfish, stupid-"

"Stop. Please." Mio's eyes were shut tight. She appeared to be suffering. "You're not terrible or selfish or stupid. You were scared. I've been there before and you know it."

Ritsu would've cracked a joke about Mio being scared if what the bassist had said didn't sound so true. _Maybe I was a little scared. _Usually the drummer registered that things were scary before she felt scared. This time it was the opposite. And this time Mio was comforting Ritsu.

"Fear is such an irrational thing," the raven-haired girl said thoughtfully. "You could give up anything to send something scary away from you." She paused. "Say, do you remember when we went to that amusement park and I was afraid to get on that roller coaster?"

Ritsu nodded. They were ten when the brunette goaded Mio into riding the Baka Oni, which was the Japanese roller coaster equivalent of the Raging Bull at Six Flags Great America.

"Do you remember what you told me as we got on?"

The drummer really had to rack her brain for that memory. All she could remember about the Baka Oni was laughing at the picture of Mio one of the ride's stationary cameras had taken. Ritsu shook her head; she could not remember what she had said.

"The flip-side of fear is excitement."

_Oh yeah. _Suddenly memories of crazy stunts flooded Ritsu. Sliding down a rail at school. Teasing the neighbors' pitbull. Trying to crawl on top of the rungs of the monkey bars. Mio was horrified by these antics, but Ritsu got a rush out of them.

_Maybe I could get a rush out of telling Mio how I really feel._

"Mio," she said slowly, "there's kinda something else that's had me scared."

"I had a feeling it wasn't just that," the bassist sighed. She tilted her head, resting her cheek on her knee. _Ritsu looks so cute without her headband. _For as long as Mio had known her, the drummer had always been very laidback - except for her headband. Ritsu always adamantly refused to be seen with her bangs down. Even at sleepovers Ritsu would sooner tie her bangs up and adopt the Pebbles Flintstone look than leave them down. _She's so vain and conceited when it comes to her hair. That's kinda funny. _Mio wondered why Ritsu didn't care much about her bangs now.

Presently the drummer awkwardly played with the hem of her skirt. She was blushing. "I kinda...love ...someone."

"You love someone?" Mio echoed in an excited voice. She smiled hugely. She was happy for her friend. She loved it that Ritsu loved someone. This was a problem the raven-haired bass player was more than eager to help with. _Ritsu's never been so...tender and cautious when it comes to love. She might be more uptight than I thought. _"Who is it?"

Ritsu averted her eyes and chewed the inside of her cheek. The headache was back full-force, but at least the headband wasn't containing it. She was scared again. Mio might have been alright with the coming out. But the winds could change once she found out she was the one Ritsu was gay for.

"I-it's..." she began hesitantly. Her voice was raw with agony. "It's y...y...y..."

"Yui?" Mio exclaimed and Ritsu flinched at how loud her normally quiet friend was. Grinning excitedly, Mio brought a fist to her palm. "That makes a lot of sense. You two would be great together." She made her wise eyebrows. "Heheh. I'd like to see what you guys' lack of organizational abilities would do to your future home." Then Mio was back to fussing about ecstatically. "And Yui's super-nice, so even if she doesn't love you back, she'll-"

"Get a grip, Mio! It's not Yui-chan!" Ritsu could feel that old buzz of energy in her limbs: the first familiar feeling she'd had all night. She was getting restless from dragging this out and beating around the bush. It was time to move on, with or without Mio by her side. Pushing her bangs away, for it was time to stop hiding in them like a coward, she cried, "I was trying to say that it's _you _that I love! You, Mio! Okay?"

She was still a coward, she decided, and let her tawny bangs fall back over her terrified topaz eyes. Now hailed the official grace period. Would Mio accept her feelings? Reject them? Return them? Ritsu was wishing she hadn't thrown away her headband now. How in the world could Mio bring herself to love the short girl with the funny comb-over bangs?

Mio's reaction was limited to one word, but Ritsu could hear the emotions that anchored her voice. "...Me?"

"Yes." Ritsu pushed her bangs back again, but stared at the floor. She waited for the bassist to say something. Knowing timid Mio, the drummer could be waiting for a week. Driven by her usual zippy impatience, she continued, "I think I always have, and I'm just now realizing it. That was why I always picked on you in primary school. Because I didn't know what else to do." Her hands were falling asleep. She readjusted them on her head. "You were always so...industrious and smart and pretty."_ All things that I'm not. I knew this was a bad idea. _"A-and, uh...I realize that because of these aforementioned traits, you could have any girl you wanted...but I really just want you to have me." Her hands were completely numb and heavy. They felt like a dead person's hands. Ritsu forced herself to look at Mio, right at her pearly eyes. "In the band you're always the perfectionist - and I know you always have been. And I wonder if you ever get tired of standing so tall. I...I want to be the one to catch you if you fall." _Those could be good lines for a song. _"But...if you don't feel that way for me..." Oh God, this was so hard. "...I don't want us to stop being friends. I can't help how I feel about you, but we shouldn't - HUH?" she gasped, feeling Mio's hand on hers. The bassist was pushing Ritsu's hand away from her bangs, letting them fall. The skin-to-skin contact was titillating. Mio's hands were soft and gentle, but cold.

"Ricchan, I'm so sorry..." The bass player's voice was a choked whisper.

"Why are you apologizing?" Ritsu inquired. She also wanted to know why Mio was calling her by her childhood nickname.

"I've hurt you so much." The raven-haired girl brought a hand to her face. Her fingers slid across her moist eyelids until they were pinching the bridge of her nose. "I didn't know you were so scared and miserable for the last week because of me. If I'd known, I'd have...I'd have..."

"You'd have what?" Ritsu whispered, anxious for the answer.

Mio looked at Ritsu. Her slate-colored eyes were warmer and fuller than both their hearts put together. "I'd have answered your feelings sooner."

"A-answered them how...?"

She was adorable with her bangs down. Mio was struck with the urge to ruffle them. Smiling, she responded, "Answered them...something like this..." She leaned forward. Ritsu's heart launched into spin cycle. The drummer inclined her head toward Mio. She couldn't believe it. What she had wanted and needed but feared she would not get was about to happen. Mio's long pigeon-soft coal locks fell forward, touching Ritsu's face ever so gently. The drummer's head was in a whirl. She now had more energy than she knew what to do with.

At the moment supreme, however, Mio hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't want to kiss Ritsu. Actually, she wanted to very badly. It was just that she'd lost her nerve. So instead she cupped the drummer's face with one hand and planted a warm, passionate kiss on her cheek, right next to her mouth. A panicked purr fluttered from Ritsu's lips. It wasn't a lip-to-lip kiss, but it still sent her exuberant heart up over the moon. Her joy could've sent her beyond Pluto ten times. Even after Mio broke her kiss her face lingered next to Ritsu's. The brunette never in her life imagined she could feel so satisfied from such a pure gesture.

Mio's face glowed pleasantly as she finally pulled back. Smiling, she traced her left hand lightly up Ritsu's cheek through her bangs. "Maybe I've always loved you, too," she speculated softly. "We all need that person in our lives...That person who does more than complete you. That person who...who surprises and amazes you everyday. That person who stays with you no matter how bad you are or how tough the going is." Mio pushed Ritsu's bangs back, rubbing her head and exposing her swimming hazel eyes. "You're that person to me. You always have been." She leaned forward and smooched Ritsu's forehead. "You always will be." When she pulled back Ritsu could feel a torrent of love and affection beating from Mio's heart to hers. The bassist's ultramarine eyes expressed something more artistic, more poetic and lyrical than all the songs she had written. "You're the one, Ritsu."

"M-Mio..." The drummer had never heard her best friend say such incredible things. Mio was right about the one surprising you everyday. She had surprised Ritsu three times tonight.

Usually in situations like this Ritsu would make fun of Mio. Now she was speechless. That was another thing about the one person in your life: he or she could make you surprise yourself.

Mio stood up then, and readjusted her clothes. Then she gave Ritsu her hand and helped her up. The room was utterly silent as they faced each other, but their thoughts and their emotions filled their heads. It was the loudest silence either of them had ever heard. Ritsu wasn't aware that Mio was still holding her hand until the raven-haired girl slid her own hand up the drummer's arm until she was cupping her elbow. The gesture conveyed more tenderness and affection than Ritsu could even comprehend. She found herself melting into Mio, and let the taller girl take her in and surround her powerfully. There was suddenly no doubt, no fear, no questions. Just white noise.

* * *

><p>"Do you want to go upstairs?" Mio asked. She heard a sharp intake of breath, felt Ritsu stiffen, and she laughed. Lightly rapping her knuckles against the drummer's head, she giggled, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Ricchan. I'd just rather have some privacy in case Sato-kun or your parents come home."<p>

"P-privacy for what?" Ritsu stuttered.

"Just talking." Mio couldn't help laughing. It was just so cute, how nervous Ritsu was getting. "You don't want your family to see us like this, do you?"

Ritsu shook her head. No, she didn't. They would freak. Big time. But this seemed kind of like the milestone her mother would want to know about: when her daughter started dating. _Should I tell Mom about this? _Ritsu's heart, which had been soaring high moments before, crashed within the pits of her chest. That was a troubling thought. Mr. and Mrs. Tainaka loved Ritsu and Mio together, but they wouldn't love Ritsu and Mio _together. _The drummer opened her mouth to voice this qualm, but reconsidered. The two of them had been through enough to get to this point. They deserved the rest of the night to be happy.

"Hey," Ritsu grinned as they bounded up the stairs. "You called me Ricchan."

Mio's eyebrows slanted and her cheeks pinkened. "Er, yeah."

"You haven't called me that since we grew up." The drummer hugged her girlfriend's arm. "Will you call me that more often?"

The bass player was still blushing, but she smirked. "Only if you agree not to wear that headband as much."

For the first time in a while Ritsu was conscious of how her bangs fell over her eyes. She sheepishly pushed them back, gulping, "Never!" Then she back-tracked, "Wait. Do you actually _like_ my hair down?"

"Yeah, I do," Mio nodded. She started giggling. "Not that you don't look seriously cute and funny trying to manually hold it back."

"Oi...!" Flustered, Ritsu brought her hands back down. Her bangs tumbled back down in their touseled way. She cocked her head. "Why the hell do you like my hair this way? It looks silly."

"No. Not silly at all." Mio came in close and rested her head against Ritsu's. "I can't describe it, but you look just adorable. You know? Charming."

"Hmph. Well, if _you _like it..."

They went into Ritsu's room. They laid side-by-side on the drummer's bed, flipping through a yearbook from their first year at Sakura High School and laughing over old times. It was just like before, only this time Ritsu could feel Mio rubbing a foot affectionately against hers. She found that both stimulating and relaxing.

Mio tilted her head, beaming as she studied her best friend's laughing face. _She is awesome,_ she thought appreciatively. She wished she hadn't gotten scared earlier, when she was trying to kiss Ritsu. It had taken a lot of courage to say all those things, things that Mio had taken four years to work up the nerve to say. Ritsu deserved a good kiss on the mouth. _She looks so happy._ The bassist wanted to make her happier.

"Hey, Ricchan."

"Yeah?" Ritsu looked up.

Without hesitation, Mio leaned in and kissed the drummer deeply. It was such a kiss. It felt so good that it hurt when Mio pulled back, her eyes shining.

"W-what was that for?" Ritsu stuttered.

"For staying by my side all these years." Smiling, Mio nuzzled her girlfriend. "This is for being such a good friend." She gave Ritsu another, longer-lasting kiss. The bassist hummed sweetly. Then she rolled onto her side and the drummer cuddled up against her. It was late and the two of them were exhausted enough to sleep for a month. Somewhere between that moment and the start of her dream Ritsu could hear a line from a song she liked.

_All your life you've been waiting for this moment to be free._


	11. Marble House

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Eleven  
><strong>

**Marble House**

Sawako squeaked, feeling the floor start to slip out from under her. She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. It was a situation like this in which she would bellow, "Whose goddamn idea was this?" However, the question more implied, "Why was this suggested?" Sawako knew who had suggested ice skating (herself) and why she chose it (to take her mind off Mugi and Tokudaiji). She hung on to the wall, content to watch the other people skate.

She heard the trademark roar of someone halting on the rockers next to her. Cautious to move her body lest she should fall, Sawako turned her head to find Mugi standing beside her. The blonde keyboardist's chest heaved with every big breath she took. Her cheeks were rosy from effort. "This takes me back," she gasped, leaning wearily against the wall. "Why aren't you out there?"

Sawako blushed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "No reason…I'm, uh, taking a break! Like you, y'know? Heheh."

Mugi smiled. She knew Sawako couldn't actually skate. She'd brought her here to make up for the coffee. Edging closer to the sensei on her skates, Mugi asked softly, "Do you have an elastic on you?"

Sawako paused before fishing through her coat pockets. She was known to carry random miscellaneous things in her pockets. Once she had found her lucky pencil from high school which she'd lost right before her finals. Sure enough, there was a glittery blue hairtie in her left coat pocket. Sawako handed it to Mugi; a sharp intake of breath as their hands touched.

Holding the elastic in her mouth, Tsumugi gathered her jaune locks at the back of her head. She then looped the hairtie about her ponytail a couple times. It wasn't a severe ponytail; a few amber tresses framed her round face. Sawako couldn't help but notice how well the blue elastic complemented — no, _beautified _— her hair. As a bonus, it really brought out her cerulean eyes. Mugi noticed Sawako staring, and smiled, her hooded eyes full. She edged closer still and placed her left hand on the older woman's shoulder. Her right hand strayed up Sawako's neck, pausing on her cheek. Her eyes never once wavered or strayed from the teacher's. She possessed a new kind of confidence, a deliberateness. Sawako felt both nervous and eerily calm.

So the sensei stood still, looking into the keyboardist's eyes. She didn't kiss Sawako or anything like that. But what she did felt as shockingly intimate. The first three fingers of her right hand slid upwards to smooth a rumple of consternation in the center of Sawako's forehead.

"Watch this," Mugi whispered softly.

Sawako complied.

Mugi detached herself from the teacher and drifted backwards on the ice. Sawako's face suddenly felt cold where the blonde's warm hand had once been. She watched as Mugi impetuously dashed out to the center of the rink, her flaxen hair flashing in the light like liquid gold. The next thing that happened, Sawako couldn't rightly explain it or find the proper adjective to describe how she felt. It was so unexpected. Mugi seemed to catch the ice with the toepic on her right skate; then she lunged maybe three feet into the air and lutzed. The lutz was so quick and controlled, the landing so graceful, that Mugi almost seemed a little ethereal to Sawako. It was boggling to think that such beauty existed in this world, and that it had touched her face not moments before.

The other people in the rink stared in awe; some even clapped. Mugi teetered slightly from dizziness before making her way back to Sawako. The teacher had too much to say and couldn't say anything at the same time.

Mugi leaned against the wall. "I'm losing my touch, I guess."

"Are you nuts? That was amazing!" Sawako exploded.

The keyboardist started at the abrupt outburst. Then she smiled sheepishly and put her arm behind her head. "Thank you…I, uh, used to figure skate when I was little."

Sawako shook her head, still bewildered by the stunt which she had only seen on the Winter Olympics from the comfort of her living room TV. Actually, what Mugi just did was far better than some of the shit routines Sawako had seen during the Olympics. She remembered one flambuoyant American competitor whose routine included no lunges or lutzes or anything. He had taken bronze. If Mugi were to compete, Sawako would give her gold. She would give her platinum if that was possible.

"How…long did you skate for?" she finally asked.

Mugi's eyes flicked away as she tried to remember. "Five years. I started when I was five, and stopped when I was ten."

"Why did you stop?"

Mugi shrugged. "I got tired of it," she stated simply.

Sawako could understand this. There were the things you enjoyed doing, and there were the things you were good at. However, it seemed like Mugi was good at damn near everything.

"Can we go?" Sawako asked suddenly.

Mugi didn't look bothered by the request. "Go where?"

"Anywhere. I need to talk to you."

The keyboardist didn't protest or call attention to how skittish Sawako plainly was. They returned the rental skates, and then the teacher led Mugi into the fresh autumn night. In forty-five minutes it would be November. Sawako kept walking and walking, faster and faster, until Mugi was jogging to keep up with her. She couldn't help it; she was a woman on the run. She was on the run from this new thing that was blossoming between them. She could no longer ignore it. Even Mugi was aware of it, as she had so daringly expressed back at the ice rink.

_She's incredible, _Sawako thought, _and not just in that she's so unbelievably talented. _The teacher was more thinking back to what Mugi had said during her "detention." _Here she is, nine years younger than me, and she's able to bluntly express feelings which I never could with previous boyfriends. _Sawako looked at Mugi, wondering, _Has she always felt this way?_

Mugi was trotting beside Sawako, her breath blasting from her mouth in feathery puffs. She didn't complain, but she was clearly tired from running. _I've never known somebody who could be so brave and yet so easy-going. Why did I avoid talking to her for so long? _Smiling, Sawako caught Mugi's left hand in the running backswing and held it. The blonde kept her face forward, still panting, but Sawako saw the corners of her mouth turn up. She slowed down until they were walking, much to Mugi's relief. The two of them passed some warehouses on the outskirts of the city.

Well, here it was. They had gotten coffee, ice skated, and now they were holding hands. It was, more or less, a date. Their professional relationship merely fuzzed around the edges. _Should I kiss her?_

Healthy relationships were about both people standing equal to each other. But Sawako was a teacher and Mugi was her student. That wasn't fair or equal. _That situation is only temporary, though. _

The warehouses petered away into a thin forest. Sawako felt the jerk of Mugi's hand as the blonde hesitated at its fringe. The teacher turned to look at her. Mugi's azure eyes and the hairtie sparkled in the starlight. The hesitation was brief, though, and she continued onward; she was moving faster than Sawako this time. Smiling vibrantly, she told the teacher over her shoulder, "I know this forest. There's a place we can go."

It stood to reason that Mugi knew this city in and out, back and forth. It was her hometown. Between the coffee shop and the ice rink, Sawako had seen most of the city. Everytime they passed a fancy subdivision, she wondered if this was where Mugi lived.

They were on a path, the two of them. But, Sawako realized, it was not a bike path like she had frequently rode on while growing up. It was more suited to cars than hikers and bikers. And the forest was so sparse. There were no animals, save for the occasional bird. Sawako was getting the feeling that these woods were private property…

She halted abruptly.

"What's up, Sawa-chan?" Mugi queried.

"You live here, don't you?" Sawako asked slowly. Then, more quickly: "You're taking me to your house, aren't you?"

The keyboardist smiled and squeezed the teacher's hand. "Yeah, I am." As they continued onward, Sawako beside herself with anticipation and curiosity, Mugi explained the history of her home.

"The Kotobuki mansion has been home to ten generations of my family. I don't know why it was built out in the sticks — maybe at the time the city was larger. Or this location was better for great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Kotobuki Taizo's own purposes. I've heard stories about him being an agoraphobic hermit." She giggled. "Father talks about Taizo-jiisan as if he knows him." Based on the stories, Mugi could only marvel at how similar Taizo and her father seemed. "He was a philosopher. He had the signature Kotobuki above-average temperature. And the eyebrows."

"And your father's a…conglomerate owner?"

Mugi nodded. "A bit rare in our family. Most people in our family either go into art or metaphysics. Kotobuki Munetaka was an astrologer who published three books on the subject. Kotobuki Takao was a painter. Kotobuki Hitoshi was a concert harpist." She blushed and brought a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. Am I boring you?"

"Not at all," Sawako assured. She brought her other hand to Mugi's hand which she was holding. It was the only thing keeping her warm in this biting night.

"I really sound like my father, talking about family and history and such," the keyboardist continued apologetically. "And his family lectures honestly bore me, so…"

"I really don't mind. Concert harpist, huh?" Grinning, Sawako brought her hand about Mugi's shoulders. "Future generations will say, 'Kotobuki Tsumugi was a famous concert pianist.'" She paused. "That name really stands out from the pack."

"Because it's the only feminine one?" Mugi grinned. "Ten generations, and I'm the only female Kotobuki to reside in this mansion." She laughed as she always did when she thought of this. "What were _you _like growing up, Sawa-chan?"

"Eh? Well…My family's not very exciting. We don't have history…"

"Nonsense. Every family has history of their own." Mugi valued personal family history much more than public family history. Her parents' divorce meant so much more to her than one of Kotobuki Munetaka's books.

"Well, if you're really eager to hear it…" Sawako ducked under a low-hanging branch. The woods were thinning out more and more. "I'm one of three daughters."

"Mm. Oldest?"

"Youngest, actually."

Mugi looked at Sawako in surprise. Her parents' youngest daughter was…what? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? "How old are your parents?" She knew it was a rude question to ask; hypocritical, too, since her father was sixty-two.

"Fifty-nine."

The keyboardist honestly tried to mask her shock, but it was in vain. Sawako noticed her astonishment and smiled. "My mother was born in Kyoto five years after World War II. My father was born in Nara."

_And you said your family had no history? _Kyoto and Nara were cornerstones of Japanese culture. Tsumugi wished she had relatives from those cities.

"I spent a lot of my childhood in Kyoto, visiting my mom's folks." She laughed. "I'd go there during summers and pick up the dialect from my family and friends. And I'd go back to Sakura High School, annoy my classmates with it, and it would be gone again by October."

Mugi giggled, remembering how she could mimic the dialect as well. All she had to go on it, though, were a few movies she'd seen which were set in Kyoto.

"What about your father's family?"

"Oh my God, Mugi-chan, they were friggin' _weird._" Sawako shielded her eyes, as though she was dazzled by their weirdness. "His parents divorced when he was, like, fifteen. He lived with his alcoholic mother. She had all these men over, and it was just creepy for him."

Mugi wanted to ask if this woman was a geisha or something. Sawako beat her to it.

"Batcha wasn't a prostitute. She just...had a lot of boyfriends. She's still alive," Sawako added with a hint of amazement. "She cohabits with some demented ninety-year-old guy. My dad's looking forward to the day when he finally bites it."

The keyboardist winced. "He sounds mean."

Sawako nodded. The grass was becoming lusher - much more like grass in somebody's yard than grass in a forest.

"But..." Mugi kept her eyes down as she kicked a pebble. "I...I may not approve of that, but I think I understand." She looked back up. Her bushy eyebrows furrowed over her hooded eyes, which glinted dispassionately. "I can't say I'd be happy if either of my parents remarried."

"Why?" Sawako asked the question with open awe, as a little kid would, as though she could not comprehend why remarriage angered her father and Tsumugi so.

"If either of them remarries..." Mugi paused to stare up at the sparse branches criss-crossed in the starlit velvet black sky. "If Mother or Father remarry, then they can't get back together."

"Did you think they would?"

The keyboardist remained silent. A branch snapped underneath her foot.

"C'mon, Mugi-chan, there's a reason why your parents divorced, and that reason's not going to bring them back together."

"I know, okay?" Mugi shook her head and glared at the trees. "You're the one who doesn't know what it's like..."

"I can imagine what it's like," said Sawako softly. She meant to firmly grab the blonde girl's shoulder, but ended up lightly stroking it. "To really want things to change and knowing that they can't." The sensei was a bit surprised by Mugi's sudden change in humor. She was usually such a pleasant and simple-minded girl. But then, what was a girl like that to do when she was thrown into something that was neither pleasant nor simple? "...Actually, I don't think I can imagine it." Sawako really felt horrible, like she had just tried to reduce a permanent problem into something insignificant. If someone - say, Mugi's mother - had died, Mugi and her father would go through the grieving process and eventually move on. There was no moving on from a divorce. The damage stayed after the parents were done fighting...and, unfortunately, Sawako was realizing, that was Tsumugi's cross to bear.

The teacher was overwhelmed with sorrow. She just wished she knew how to commiserate with Mugi's situation. _In what twisted up world does the kid have to keep peace in a household? I wonder if her parents still fight, and if she still has to keep peace? Did she ever have to side with either one of them?_

"I wish it hadn't happened to you." Sawako slid her caressing hand to the back of Mugi's neck, which was as warm if not warmer than her hands.

The aurum-haired girl's expression smoothed over, her eyebrows no longer pinched and slanted. She looked at Sawako appreciatively, and brought her hand to Sawako's arm, holding her hand to her neck. 'I wish it hadn't happened to you' carried so much more meaning than the more frequently used 'I'm sorry.' Those words and that gesture bore so much meaning that she didn't know what to say to that.

"I'm alright." Mugi didn't know if it was the right thing to say, but it had the right meaning. Liking the sound of it, she said it again. "I'm alright."

* * *

><p>"Welcome home, ojou-sama."<p>

Mugi gently closed the immense front doors. She had been dreading this moment more than introducing Sawako and her father. People who were not related to Mr. Kotobuki's numerous affiliates tended to feel overwhelmed by the mass greeting from the butlers.

The sensei was no exception. Her surprise was so passionate that it defied words or sound. Seeing the two wide sets of staircases extending upward to an overhang on the second floor which shadowed the entrance to a larger than life coat closet, the song title "Marble House" by the Knife leapt into Sawako's head. She had always wondered if Mugi lived in a traditional mansion or a European-styled mansion. As the butlers greeted Sawako and offered to take her jacket, she noticed some of them spoke with strange, unfamiliar accents.

"Where's my father?" Mugi queried.

"He went out to the shopping center in Kobe," a portly butler responded.

Sawako almost whistled. _That's really far to go just to do some shopping!_

_"_He left somewhere around 1900 hours, so I think he'll be home soon," the butler added.

Tsumugi stepped up next to Sawako. She detested lying, but she thought it more sensible to not let people know she had been out with her teacher. "This is my...friend from French class, Hirasawa Mikoto." She knew Yui wouldn't mind if she borrowed her last name.

Sawako played along. She bounced forward and put her hand out. "_Bonsoir, monsieur. Comment t'appelles tu?_"

The butler, his blue eyes wide with shock, pumped Sawako's hand once. "_J-je m'appelle Denis Duvont. Enchanté_." He awkwardly placed his hand behind his head. "_Tu parles très bien français_."

Sawako shook her head. She didn't want this Denis to think she could actually speak French. "_Non, non. Je parle comme-ci, comme-ça. Mais, merci beaucoup_."

Mugi's thunderstruck blue eyes darted between Sawako and the butler. The teacher was speaking French as fluently and clearly as Monsieur Harusegawa, her French teacher. She could tell, though, that Sawako was just about reaching the limits of her French (which weren't enough for her to pass for a French III student). She spoke up, "Denis-san, Miko-chan and I have a big test on Monday to study for. If you'll excuse us..."

Denis, for a moment, forgot that he was no longer in Luxembourg. He nodded, muttered, "_Excusez-moi_," then, startled by his rudeness, exclaimed in broken Japanese, "Excuse me, ojou-sama."

"Denis-san kills me," Mugi chuckled, leading Sawako through the mansion. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you speak French so well? Did you study it in high school?"

Her brown eyes wide, Sawako shook her head in bewilderment. "Ohh, no. I studied English in high school and in college." She stated that Sawa-chan Fun Fact in lightly accented English. Then, switching back to Japanese: "I've never spoken French in my life. I just opened my mouth and that all came out."

"Denis-san is a native speaker!" Mugi cried, incredulous. "And you had him convinced!"

"I think I spoke about as well as a student would," Sawako said dryly. She turned her face forward to find they were now in an immense round room with dark red walls, wood paneling, chairs and sofas and loveseats. She laughed when she saw the grand piano in the closest corner; Mugi was getting the two of them back to basics.

Sawako sat next to the blonde girl on the bench. She allowed herself a better look around the room. There was so much to take in. It was roughly the size of her childhood home's living room, kitchen, dining room, and family room put together. After living in her shabby apartment for eight months, this one room in this younger girl's mansionesque home made Sawako feel a little agoraphobic herself. She could hardly blame any Kotobuki for feeling a little scared of the immensity of this place.

The room had a very posed, unused look about it. Or the butlers just did a superb job keeping it clean. It reminded Sawako of those old American movies with the cocktail party scenes and everyone dancing the Charleston. She felt a little Gatsby to Mugi's Daisy. The famous line from Fitzgerald's most popular book crept into her: _Rich girls don't marry poor boys._

_Well...I'm not poor, but..._She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about money. An unprofessional relationship didn't need money to be really great. That was what everybody said, right? The best things in life are free?

Mugi experimentally tapped middle C, but something wasn't right. Something was missing. The piano wasn't out of tune (much). The sheet music was there. Dr. Beat was there. She raised her hand to sweep her bangs out of her eyes, as she habitually did before playing. Her hand halted on her forehead once she realized that there were no bangs to push away. _That_ was what was missing. She quickly pulled out the blue hairtie, shaking out the bind it had put in her amber locks, and held it out to Sawako. "Here's your hairtie. I meant to give it back earlier."

"Keep it. I don't put my hair back much, and it looks better on you anyway."

"Oh, I doubt that. Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Sawako shook her head, doing the no-deal hand wave. "I don't look good in blue, much as I'd like to. You look stunning with that elastic."

"You do so look good in blue," Mugi insisted. To the sensei's alarm, she took a brune tress and held the ponytail holder up to it. The keyboardist gently pulled her fingers through the strands. Sawako's hair was perfectly straight, thick, and silken. "See? Look at the contrast that creates. It makes your hair look great."

"Really? W-well, if you think so..." Sawako's hand trembled as she accepted the elastic. She noticed a long, curly golden strand still attached to it. She had never felt so mystified before, much less from a student of hers. Weren't the roles supposed to be switched? _Yamanaka Sawako, hot for student_, she thought with amusement. But was she hot for Mugi in that way? Was Mugi mystified, too?

"What's going on, Mugi-chan?" she blurted.

"What do you mean?" the blonde ojou inquired, playing the opening bars of 'Moonlight Sonata.'

"I mean, you've kind of been on this downer lately." Using the word 'downer' in tandem with the melancholic harmony of 'Moonlight Sonata' was wholly appropriate. "We haven't spoken much lately, I know, but you weren't...being yourself."

Mugi ended 'Moonlight Sonata' on a somber note, and switched to playing 'Badinerie.' She played it with varying tempos and dynamics: parts she knew well she played fast and loud, and parts she wasn't so confident in she played slow and soft. She kept the song moving, regardless of mistakes, until the excess of bum notes frustrated her too much. She lightly rapped her left hand against the keys with a dissonant _DENG! _Sighing, she told Sawako, "I have a solo contest coming up."

The unharmonious chord faded up into the high ceiling, like an afterthought to Mugi's restrained anger. Even an analogous set of notes were perfect for the mood.

"It's on Friday, the same day as the concert," the younger girl continued gloomily, "and this piece is way too hard."

"Why did you enter yourself in a solo contest on the same day as the concert?"

"I didn't. My father did. He picked the music, too." Mugi lightly tapped the first chord of 'Badinerie.' "He hates mainstream music, so there's no way he'd pardon the contest for the concert." She cracked her knuckles and looked at Sawako. "What about you? You're not being yourself either."

The sensei exhaled, knowing it was true. Her promotion to Fine Arts Department Chair had given her a wealth of responsibility, but there was more to her recent change in behavior than that. It was, of course, the kiss. At the time last week during Mugi's fated detention, a kiss on the cheek seemed like a comforting, affectionate gesture. But if Sawako couldn't bring herself to say anything after that, the kiss could have more or less meant nothing. But Sawako knew that kiss wasn't just for comfort. Holding a hand or giving a hug registered comfort. A kiss registered something totally different.

"Ts-Tsumugi..."

"Hm?" Mugi took her hands away from the piano and turned on the bench, straddling it, so she could face Sawako. Whenever anyone who wasn't her mother or father called her Tsumugi she knew they were talking about serious business.

The older woman turned the azurous hairtie over in her hands. Then she pulled the flavicomous hair from it and played with it, watching as though hypnotized as the hair curled and straightened. "We need to talk about that kiss..."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mugi blush. The ojou's cerulean eyes swam with an emotion Sawako couldn't presently identify. It may have been affection. It may have been worry.

"We both know that that was the gigantic elephant in the room that we needed to talk about," the teacher said flatly.

Mugi wordlessly nodded they had needed to talk about that elephant, but finding the words was difficult. Acknowledging the kiss would throw its significance to the acknowledger into question: 'Why did that kiss mean so much to you anyway?' But, Mugi realized, through the painful silence both of them stubbornly held for the past week, they communicated a mutual message that the kiss meant a lot to both of them.

"We...both know what it meant," the ojou murmured.

Sawako smiled slightly. It was a weak smile, but not a fake one. She was plainly freaked out. "We know what it could mean if it gets out."

Mugi gulped. Her head was beginning to ache with all the sleep-depriving fear she had had of that hypothetical situation. Her father had come close to finding out, but then decided that he just didn't care. Denis was fooled for the moment. How long could that last, though?

"But you know what, Mugi-chan?" The teacher scooted along the bench, closer to the keyboardist. She had her face turned toward her, her brown eyes betraying a hesitation contrary to her actions. "I don't care what happens if they find out."

The blonde girl blinked in surprise. Like with the detention last week, she could describe this situation as 'intimate.' The fact that Sawako was practically whispering lent an even deeper sense of closeness to the private scene. Once again, the gap between them was narrowing. The sensei was leaning closer still, and her right hand reached up to tenderly cup Mugi's cheek. Behind her glasses, Sawako's tawny eyes swam passionately.

"You make me feel happier than anyone else has ever made me feel. And I would be an idiot to give up that happiness."

_She's going to kiss me again!_ Mugi realized. Sawako's face was so close now that the ojou could feel and smell her minty breath. Mugi dimly wondered if this was a little too straight-forward, but..._What is there to say that we don't know already? I'm just glad that I can make Sawa-chan so happy._ The keyboardist, sporting an excoriating beamer, turned her face slightly, showing Sawako the same side of it that she'd kissed a week ago.

Sawako had other ideas. Without pausing, she tilted her head in accordance with Mugi's. The gap vanished as their mouths came together. Sawako caught Mugi's lips in a slow, deep kiss. Startled, the keyboardist turned her face forward, and the sensei kissed her again. Tsumugi's shock melted away into a warm yearning. She fervently needed to show that yearning to Sawako, the beautiful, funny teacher whom she had adored since she was a first year. Her mouth loosened up and she leaned in, kissing Sawako back. She hummed tenderly and brought her gentle hands up to the brunette's shoulders. Sawako hugged the younger girls waist, caressing the small of her back, and pulled her into herself, Mugi's body settling into all of the teacher's parts and places. This was as close as they got, merging as one, no longer just teacher and student, ojou and commoner. They were now the perfect Sawa and Mugi.

Hot excitement bubbled up in the younger girl, lending urgency to her kisses. This moment defied all of her wildest dreams and fantasies. How long had she wanted to kiss SAwako like this (never mind the novice experience)! Their deepest and most basic needs had taken them this far; Tsumugi was wondering if they could go a bit farther...

She was now kissing Sawako so intensely that she was actually pushing the sensei's glasses askew on her warm, flushed face. Mugi raised a burning thigh so she could sit upon Sawako's lap. The teacher's hands faltered; she moaned involuntarily.

Mugi tore herself away from Sawako when she heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. Her rear end hit the piano keys with another dischordant peal. She knew if a butler bothered to come by any room that she was in, then most likely he had business with her. Sawako understood this as well. Whilst the blonde sat back on the bench at an innocent distance from her, the teacher readjusted her glasses and clothes. Mugi began playing 'Badinerie' at a frantic, clumsy tempo. The cherry-wood doors made no sound when Denis entered.

"Ojou-sama, Kotobuki-dono has just arrived home."

"Okay, thank you, Denis-san." It cracked Mugi up how the butlers called her father 'Kotobuki-dono' when they were talking to her. She smiled at Sawako. "Want to meet my father?"

Still dazed by their heated actions not mere moments before, Sawako nodded slightly.

* * *

><p>Mr. Kotobuki's beryl-colored eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at Tsumugi, his only daughter. She approached him with some bespectacled individual whom he presumed to be a friend of hers. He was eager to see his daughter, for he had a feeling that what he'd bought in Kobe could pull her out of her blues.<p>

"Hi, Father," Mugi greeted brightly. "How was Kobe?"

"Excellent as usual," he nodded. He wore a cobalt blue suit with an accent of red silk peeping from the breast pocket. "I had dinner at this glorious restaurant, Tsumugi. Louie's, it was called. Their service was capital and the _baklava _was to die for."

The hint of Greek combined with the upsnap of his Scandinavian accent made Mugi wince. She wondered what Sawako thought of her father.

"Uh, Father, this is my friend from French class." She also wondered how long this lie could go on before it blew up.

"Hirasawa Makoto." Sawako stepped forward with her right hand extended.

The old man barely grasped it, much less shake it. "Kotobuki Holt."

Holt. There was an unusual name reserved for European military generals during the World Wars. Sawako was beginning to question whether her new cute girlfriend was Japanese or European.

"This restaurant is the best, Tsumugi," Holt continued, waving his hand expressively. "I ought to bring you there sometime."

Mugi nodded. "Sure. Maybe sometime."

Her father grinned. "I got something for you."

The keyboardist almost groaned. The last time Holt went out and bought something for her, he came back with that brass dog that now watched over people in the bathroom. Holt knew two things about Mugi: that she could play piano, and that she liked dogs. Most of her birthday, Christmas, and Easter presents revolved around those two Mugi Fun Facts. And they were all pretty useless.

Presently, Tsumugi covered her mouth to surpress that groan. She was worried that Sawako would think of her as an ungrateful daughter and a brat. Sometimes Mugi thought she was, but she wasn't ready for Sawako to see that side of her. For the moment Good Mugi prevailed whilst Bad Mugi sulked in the shadows.

Holt had disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he bore a gigantic rectangular box. It compassed the general shape of an 88-key keyboard, but with Holt you never knew. He was known to give her mock-up presents for Christmas when she was tiny. She recalled a year when she opened an enormous package that only had a gift card to Best Buy in it. This keyboard-shaped box could probably be holding a new pair of gloves or something.

Or could it? Mugi tilted her head and caught the Yamaha logo on the side of the box.

She gasped. "A new keyboard...?"

"Uh-huh." Holt's smile was so huge, his voice so eager, that it nearly broke Mugi's heart to think, _I don't want a new keyboard, though!_ "It's a MOTIF Synthesizer...Probably synthesizers aren't your thing, but this'll broaden your horizons a bit! It has a USB port so you can record what you're playing, though I dunno if you're the recording type. Four hundred and fifty-six different sounds. Incredible, ne?"

The more he talked and went on, the more horrified Sawako became. _Does he know_ anything _about his daughter? _Sawako had only known Mugi for three years, but she knew that the blonde played a synthesizer with a band that could record an album if they wanted to. It was difficult to imagine that Holt had raised Mugi and chilling to realize that he had. The teacher imagined him with his head in the clouds whilst baby Mugi crawled about and teethed on the marble overhang.

"It is incredible," Mugi said faintly. What choice did she have? Bad Mugi couldn't show herself yet. The ojou extended her arms and accepted the keyboard. "Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome," he said cheerily. "I knew you'd love it."

_Can't you see that she plainly doesn't?_ Sawako wanted to ask. This was not Mugi's genuinely happy face that she was giving her father, the sensei could tell.

Holt brushed past Mugi. "Well, do what you want with that, Tsumugi. Right now I need a big old drink. Sebastian-san!" he called. "Make me a Tom Collins!"

Mugi sheepishly looked at Sawako, her blue eyes wide. The brunette made a revolving motion next to her head and mouthed, 'Is he crazy?' Mugi sighed and jerked her head towards the front entrance.

Once they were outside Mugi gingerly propped the Yamaha against the wall. Yawning, she stretched her cramped arms. It had been such a long night. She couldn't wait to go to bed.

Sawako stared at the keyboard and rubbed her chin. "Nice gift. I wish my parents would've bought me my guitar."

"I don't want to keep it," the blonde sighed, leaning against the wall. She stifled another yawn. "Nothing could replace my Korg."

"That makes sense," Sawako nodded.

They were quiet for a moment. The teacher absently gazed at the stars. One could get a gorgeous view of the heavens from the front of the Kotobuki mansion. Aquarius glinted brightly, depicting a man carrying a bucket of water that was to represent deeper ideologies and humanitarian concepts. Sawako looked for Cancer, Mugi's sun sign, the crab representing a hard outer shell concealing a sensitive inner body, but it was too far away from Aquarius to be seen. Sawako gave up on star gazing. She opened her mouth to ask something, but saw Tsumugi had fallen asleep on her feet, leaning against the side of the mansion.

Sawako giggled, watching Mugi's head nod, her eyes flicker under the lids. She quietly approached the blonde and lightly kissed her forehead. Mugi jerked awake, nearly falling over. "Gomenasai!" she exclaimed groggily, rubbing her eyes. "I'm just kinda sleepy..."

"I understand. It's late." The teacher pulled Mugi into her arms and held her, the younger girl's flaxen-haired head pillowed upon her breasts. "I should get going so you can get some sleep."

Mugi moaned a little. She wasn't ready for them to part. She could feel the vibrations as Sawako laughed quietly.

"We'll see each other on Monday, don't worry." She paused. "Just one thing before I go. Are you from Europe?"

"Hmm, no," Mugi sighed drowsily. "I'm not _from_ there. But my heritages are Finnish and Swiss. My mom's name is Veronique Hohnstedt, believe it or not."

Sawako believed it. She had always thought Mugi had a very un-Japanese appearance. "Well, Mugi-chan," she whispered at last, "I'll see you later..." When she got no response, she lightly patted Mugi's shoulder. The blonde ojou raised her head sleepily, murmuring, "Sorry, Sawa-chan."

" 'S okay," the teacher grinned. She gently tipped Mugi's chin up and kissed her deeply. "_À lundi_, Mugi-chan."

"_À lundi_."

* * *

><p>AN

Someone asked how Sawako could pick up French like that without any prior experience. My response is, how could Yui pick up the guitar like that without any prior experience?

Judging by Tamao's story with her parents in AGUA and now by Mugi's in Recording, some of you may have assumed or wondered if my parents are divorced. They are not. However, on my mom's side of the family, everyone is divorced (except herself). My aunt and uncle divorced just last Christmas or Thanksgiving or something. My grandmother and grandfather compete, civilly but annoyingly, for the affection of me and my sisters and cousins. I'm fascinated by divorce if not a bit obsessed. It's one of the saddest things I can think of happening to anybody, especially Mugi; she's such a homebody, she doesn't seem the type to cope well with it.


	12. Things Keep Happening

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twelve  
><strong>

**Things Keep Happening**

Ritsu woke up suddenly on Saturday morning with a top-grade headache and Mio spooning her from behind. Even in this pale dawn hour the drummer knew how things were going to be between the two of them, parents be damned.

She poked her dry tongue out of her dry mouth, tasting the bitterness of autumn and other things. She spat out some tawny locks that had fallen into her mouth whilst she slept. She tried to sit up, but as a tough seat belt keeps one from moving in a car, so Mio kept her hold on Ritsu. The bassist had her arms clamped about her girlfriend's torso in an unconscious purchase. Grasping her bedframe, Ritsu tried to pull herself free. Mio simply tightened her grip, murmuring, "…Issu…"

Sighing, Ritsu flopped her head back down on her pillow. Mio was not going to let go of her until she woke up, the drummer knew that for sure. Throughout their girlhood sleepovers they had learned each other's somnolent habits. Ritsu kicked and talked in her sleep; Mio reflexively spooned anything that touched her. The brunette had been the victim of her best friend's slumberous cuddling before. Usually she turned around and bopped Mio until the raven-haired girl woke up. Now she couldn't bring herself to rouse Mio at this ungodly hour. She could hardly believe she herself had woken up this early.

_You're the one, Ritsu._

The drummer's breath caught in her throat and an electric shock ran through her collarbone. She shivered despite the wonderfully drowsy warmth of her bed, the covers, and her girlfriend snuggled up behind her. "M-Mio…" Ritsu brought a trembling hand to her mouth, her hazel eyes welling up. _I can't believe she said all those things to me. I can't believe she's my girlfriend! I thought for sure that she'd turn me down. _Her lips ached exquisitely from the memory of the kisses Mio had given her the night before: for being a good friend and staying by her side. "Oh, Mio," Ritsu sighed, cupping her hands over the bassist's hand. _I'll be a better girlfriend and stay by your side till the end._

Ritsu was beginning to think she could let Mio sleep for so long that the drummer would starve before she woke up. Then she felt a pang of urgency in her lower tummy. She suddenly remembered what she had to routinely do every morning.

Raising her elbow, she gently prodded her girlfriend. "Mio, wake up. I gotta go…"

Mio sighed and stirred slightly. She slid her left hand up Ritsu's tummy. The drummer's back went stiff as she felt the raven-haired girl's hand whisk lightly along her breast and settle there. It didn't stop there; Mio tightened her grasp until she was firmly cupping Ritsu's left breast.

Trying with all her might to control her breathing, the brunette laughed nervously. "Eheheh. Tryin' to cop a cheap feel there, Mio-chuan? I never thought you'd want to move our relationship _this _fast." When she got no response, she realized Mio was still asleep. Her eyes narrowed and she sweat-dropped. _What sort of things does this perv dream about when she cuddles?_

A choked gasp exploded from her throat as she felt Mio's hand tighten around her breast still. _That hurts…_She squeaked frightfully as Mio continued to squeeze harder. Pain lanced through her ribs. Ritsu thought she would either faint or have a heart attack. With a wealth of effort, she reached out and grabbed her night-stand, trying to pull herself free. Mio responded by subconsciously squeezing harder and pulling Ritsu back down. "…Issu…"

_Oh, that does it! I can only be so lovey-dovey when my chest is in a vise-hold! _Cold, sticky sweat masked Ritsu's flushed face as she grabbed a stick off her night-stand. She lightly whacked Mio's head with the butt end of it. Grunting in alarm, the bassist released Ritsu's breast and sat up. She rubbed the side of her head and blinked grumpily.

"Why did you wake me up like that?"

"Because you were squeezing my boob like a stress ball, hentai!"

Mio considered her left hand, gurgling in horror, before she snapped, "Don't make up lies, Ricchan!"

"I'm not!" Ritsu gingerly fingered her breast. Even though it was no longer caught in a clamp that may as well have been a bear trap, it still felt tender. Breathing stung her chest. "I probably have a hand-shaped bruise on it! I'm gonna have to go find a trauma counselor!"

Mio stared at Ritsu, watching her small shoulders shudder as she struggled to breathe. _She wouldn't sound so serious if she was kidding around. _Humming sympathetically, the noir-haired girl inched closer and wrapped her arms around Ritsu. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, resting her cheek upon her girlfriend's musteleine hair. "I didn't mean to, believe me. Anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Mio could hear Ritsu grinning. "Kiss it and make it better?"

_THOCK!_

Ritsu's shoulders crunched up to her neck as a princely goose egg raised itself upon her crown. "What a way to treat someone who loves you…"

"It hurt me more than it hurt you." Mio shook out her hand, then considered her uniform. "Can't believe I slept in this. I'll have to bring it to the drycleaners." She swung her legs over the edge of Ritsu's bed. "I wish I had a change of clothes."

The drummer knocked a foot against the bedframe. "There's a sweater and some lounge pants you left behind a while back."

The raven-haired girl stuck a hand under the bed, pawing fruitlessly about, until she felt something soft with a fabric texture. Her slate eyes gleaming with satisfaction, Mio withdrew her hand which clutched…

…a pair of white panties with a lily decoration.

"HYAAACKK!" Mio choked, a virtual shadow falling over her saucer-like eyes. Horrified, she threw the panties randomly across the room.

Her face tomato-red, Ritsu seized her girlfriend by her shoulders and shook her. "Is there no end to your pervertedness, Mio?" She added as an afterthought, "Though I've been wondering where those went…"

Mio's left hand fluttered helplessly. She gripped her wrist, moaning, "Pantsu…pantsu…p-p-pantsu…"

Beguiled by this morning's turn of events and the ghastly look on her best friend's face, Ritsu began to convulse with laughter. Her head grew light from her amusement. Soon, she was exhausted again. Here they were, not twelve hours into their relationship, and they were arguing already. It was either the best relationship ever or the most bizarre one. Or both.

"Here," she giggled, getting down on the floor. "Lemme find them for you." The drummer reached under her bed and within mere moments retrieved a pair of black yoga pants and a fuchsia sweater that said 'Kuma Kyoku Girl.'

Mio ceased rocking back and forth in her funk. "That's mine? I thought that was yours."

Ritsu studied it dubiously, an eyebrow raised. "It's too big to be mine." She laughed. "This must have been left behind a long time ago. Go on, put it on."

The bassist accepted it hesitantly. Then, turning away slightly, she unhooked the buttons on her blazer. Ritsu tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice Mio's curvaceous form. She used to feel the sting of jealous longing whenever she saw the coal-haired girl's breasts. Now she felt a different kind of longing. Mio's supple breasts were cradled in a simple white bra, but it drove Ritsu crazy. Her breathing came fast and deep, her chest cavity expanding to take in more air. Her thighs burned, and what she had between her thighs burned as well.

Oblivious, Mio reached for the sweater. She glanced at Ritsu. The drummer had her head bent, her cadmium-stained fingers pinching her nostrils shut.

Her dander raised with outrage and violation, Mio pressed an arm over her bra and raised the other to deck her girlfriend again. "Who's the pervert now, ecchi!"

"I'be sorry! I cad't helb id!"

"I oughta..." _What? Knock her block off without a shirt on?_ She'd probably like that. Mio swiftly pulled the pink sweater over her head, hauling her cascading long jet locks out of the collar. From the corner of her eye she saw Ritsu raise her face from her hands and snort experimentally.

"Hahh, it stopped," she sighed, her voice still a bit congested. She gagged as a backflow of bloody mucus slid down her throat.

"Ecchi," Mio muttered.

"Look, I didn't mean to betray your modesty," Ritsu apologized. "It can be payback for your crushing my delicates. Now we're even."

They affectionately teased one another as they headed downstairs, calling each other 'ecchi' and 'hentai.' At the base of the stairs they found Ritsu's blazer, neatly folded, with her headband placed on top. Stooping, Mio picked up the headband and stared at it reflectively. Last night the drummer had placed herself in a vulnerable position by throwing it away - Mio knew it represented a sort of security to Ritsu - and coming out, telling the whole truth, to boot. The bassist knew raw fear in and out, but she couldn't imagine throwing herself into something so dreadful. To Mio it would be the equivalent of going back to Mrs. Abe's class, stark naked, to write right-handed (she used to have nightmares about that in primary school).

"Ricchan," she spoke, standing back up. "Why did you take this off?" She added with a soft smile, "If you didn't know at the time how cute you look without it."

For a moment Ritsu was staggered by the flirtation, her blushing face making Mio giggle. Then, a bit embarrassed, she took the headband and placed it in her hair. "I-it was giving me a headache." _Man, why'm I stuttering? Mio used to stutter!_ Attempting to recover from her awkwardness, she grinned, "Basically that headband was doing to my head what your hand was doing to my breast."

"Oi, can we let that go?" Mio protested, her face crimson. "I said I was sorry and I'd never do it again!" When Ritsu kept laughing, the bassist gruffly turned her around and pushed her toward the kitchen. "Can we just move on?"

"Ohh, I thought you'd never ask," the drummer chuckled. She led her girlfriend into the familiar kitchen with its applewood counters, granite countertops, and the stainless steel microwave which would never fit in with its sister appliances. Fresh coffee had been made. Satoshi was having a cup with his eggs and toast. Mr. Tainaka was in the next room, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Ritsu glanced at Mio, wondering, _Am I the receptive one in this relationship?_

It wasn't that she wanted to put Mio down or anything, but come on. _It's not like me to submit to someone else's will._ Ritsu never did stuff like that. Why start now? Besides, real relationships weren't about dominance and submission. Relationships in manga were, particularly with yaoi, with the...the..._something _and the uke. _I can't be the uke_, the drummer thought, shaking her head. _The seme is always cool. The uke is either a wuss or a spazz. _

"Ohayo, neechan," Satoshi mumbled, alerting Mr. Tainaka to his daughter's presence. He set down his newspaper and leaned forward in his chair.

"Ohayo, bozu," Ritsu greeted. Satoshi whined as she seized him in a brief headlock. "How was _Paranormal Activity_? Totally awesomesauce?"

"Not really," he frowned. "It just seemed...I dunno, kinda fake."

"Pssh," she snorted, pulling his hair. "You thought _500 Days of Summer _- a lameass chick-flick - was great." She grinned and placed a hand on her cheek. "Ohoho! What would the girls in your class say if they knew you loved _500 Days of Summer_?"

"Hey, c'mon! _500 Days of Summer _was the perfect mix of funny and sad!"

"More like the perfect mix of lame and stupid!"

"Me, I just thought _Paranormal Activity _was too scary..." Mio mumbled.

Mr. Tainaka leaned his face in his hand, his palm over his mouth, as though restraining himself from speaking. Last night's confrontation with Tokudaiji weighed heavily on his mind. Even though the scrawny little wretch would have deserved it - and part of Mr. Tainaka still believed he deserved a serious licking - the old man regretted coming at him like that. This would have negative consequences for Ritsu. If Tokudaiji wasn't being a total asshole to her before, he would be now.

Mrs. Tainaka had studied philosophy during their agonizing college separation. Though her Bachelor's degree served no practical purpose, she had still formed her own ideologies. One that Mr. Tainaka remembered now was: _True strength comes from restraint. To fight someone shows how easy it is to tear you down to that level._

_Am I weak?_ he wondered.

He watched Ritsu and Mio talk and laugh. They're good friends, he thought with certainty. Tokudaiji-san has it all wrong. Mr. Tainaka came from a generation that had fallen head over heels for Star Trek. There was the fanbase; and then there were the Trekkies, fanboys, and fangirls that fervently believed that Spock and Kirk were a real couple. Tokudaiji may have just been a guy who saw things in tints of yuri. _Either way, he's full of shit._

Originally Mr. Tainaka had planned to talk to Ritsu about Tokudaiji. Now he thought that could wait.

* * *

><p>Wind blasted through Tsumugi's ears, her aurum hair rippling behind her, as she dashed through the fine arts wing of Sakura High School early Monday morning. She knew running had made her look a bit disheveled, but it had been a long weekend without Sawako. That alone had set some embers sparkling. Then Holt, her father, casually mentioned something extremely significant over breakfast and that kindled the blaze full-throttle. Mugi felt guilty about leaving Holt alone in such a rush. So she made sure to not only kiss him good-bye but hug him, too. She caught the earlier train to the next town, bounced about the car eagerly, then ran all the way to Sakura. <em>I should join the cross country team<em>, she thought absently. In total she had probably run twelve miles, and she hadn't broken a sweat or anything.

_This early in the day I can probably find Sawa-chan in the fine arts office._ It was an hour till the first period bell rang. The only people here were staff members and Madrigal Choir and Wind Symphony students.

Mugi frantically grabbed the corner to help her round it. In doing so she nearly floored her passing psychology teacher.

"Sumimasen, Toku-sensei!" she cried, bowing rapidly before continuing on her way. She glanced at him over her shoulder. _Unbelievable. But Father never lies._

"Sawako!" she gasped, exploding into the office.

The sensei looked up in alarm, then smiled once she saw it was just Mugi. It wasn't even first hour, yet it was already amounting to a stressful day. Lots of tests to grade, projects to look over, the usual paperwork every department chair had to submit on Monday, the simple fact that it was Monday, Noriko, Tokudaiji, blah blah blah.

Mugi was in a state. Her hair was a little messy. A shirt-tail peeped out from under her blazer.

"I've got two words for you," she panted, holding up her hands expressively. "Tokudaiji conglomerate."

Sawako blinked and her eyes hooded in annoyance. She hadn't had her coffee yet. It was a miserable morning, and now her girlfriend had rolled in to tell her that her worst enemy was as rich as she was. Reapplying herself to her work, she grumbled, "I got two words for you, too."

"I'm serious." The keyboardist self-consciously ran her fingers through her crisp hair. Clearing her throat, she gestured at a chair next to Sawako's desk. "May I...?"

The sensei nodded, smiling. Even in a tizzy Mugi could still remember her manners.

"Arigatougozaimasu." Whilst the ojou seated herself Sawako implored, "Please, don't be so formal." She extended a soft hand to gently tip Mugi's chin up. Her brown eyes locked with Mugi's blue ones. "I think we're a bit closer than that, don't you?"

Mugi's hooded eyes swam and her cheeks pinkened. "S-Sawa-chan..."

The teacher giggled, feeling the heat in her girlfriend's face. "Why, don't get all coy with me, Miss Tsumugi. 'Specially since you were practically in my lap Friday night...or, technically, it was Saturday morning."

So lost in amorous estrus was Mugi that she nearly forgot that was her first kiss. _I have no idea where that boldness came from either_, she wanted to say, but her throat felt paralyzed in her neck. She didn't just have butterflies in her stomach. Every organ in her body churned and fluttered and tickled with a million butterflies.

Sawako whispered something, but her words were forgotten once she kissed Mugi full on the mouth. Thankful that no one else was in the fine arts office, the keyboardist hummed softly. She tilted her head, opening her mouth a little, intensifying the kiss. A Kotobuki had a high body temperature; in that light, one had a high sexual temperature as well. Mugi could feel hers rising, the extra blood pounding in her head among other places. She reached for Sawako, sliding her sweaty hands along her arms up to her shoulders, gently pushing her back in her chair. Laughing, the brunette broke the smooch.

"You really like to kiss," she chuckled. "You're quite the firecracker."

Mugi felt like one, sparking and vibrating and wanting to explode. Her mouth still hung open, and somehow words came out. "I...never...kissed..."

"I never woulda guessed," Sawako laughed, touching a fire-hot cheek with the tips of her fingers. "I've done the girl thing a couple times in college. I had a rebellious streak as a freshman. Going against society meant going down on a girl."

That mental image seared Mugi's vital areas like a hot coal and she tossed it away quickly.

Sawako now laid her palm flat on the ojou's face, caressing it. "It didn't mean as much as this does right now. And none of those girls could kiss half as good as you can."

"O-oh, gosh...! I don't think I..."

"Didn't you have something you wanted to tell me?" Sawako impetuously withdrew and began frantically scribbling on a legal pad. The gesture stung Mugi until she saw a culinary teacher stroll over to his desk.

"U-um, well...My father's affiliated with an executive of this electronics company. Tokudaiji Eishun." She glanced at the culinary teacher, wondering if she should discuss the psych teacher. He didn't seem to notice. "Eishun-jiichan is a close family friend. I've known him for as long as I can remember. And his son, according to my father, teaches psychology here."

Sawako looked up from her scribbles. "That ogre Tokudaiji-san is a wakka?"

Mugi nodded. "Apparently."

The sensei set down her pen and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "He's past old enough to receive his inheiretance. Why's he teaching?"

The ojou shrugged. "Maybe he likes it. I'm...in the same caste as his family, and I certainly wouldn't mind teaching."

"Well, you're Mugi-chan," Sawako smirked, tapping the tip of Mugi's nose. "There's not much you would mind. But Tokudaiji-san doesn't seem to like kids or teaching in general." She pressed her fingers together and nestled her chin between her thumbs and index fingers. "Is he not allowed to work in his family's business...?"

"That would be a terrible disgrace," Mugi sighed. "I would hate to think of what he could've done to get expelled from the conglomerate..._If_ he got expelled from the conglomerate."

"Me, I wanna delve deeper into this." The teacher grinned wickedly and her eyes shone behind her glasses. She snatched a post-it and urgently scrawled something. She was growling an oath to herself. Her crazed voice gained volume until it was a roar. "Blackmail me, will ya, Tokudaiji-san? Well, now I got somethin' on ya. Two can play at this game!" She stood suddenly, throwing her chair back, and held the post-it of destiny high above her head. "This is the post-it that will pierce the heavens! I, Yamanaka Sawako, do solemnly declare my revenge on Tokudaiji-san! THIS IS WAR!" Using the ball of her hand, she slammed the post-it on her desk. Completely winded, she stood shuddering and panting. Her hair was frizzy, her face red, her eyes wild.

"Yamanaka-san...?"

Sawako shakily turned her head to see the culinary teacher staring wide-eyed at her. He had been writing something down. Now his pen slipped out of his trembling hand.

The department chair's fervor drained out of her, replaced by embarrassment and self-awareness. She straightened her posture and tried to fix her hair. She couldn't help it. She had been so overwhelmed with worry about Tokudaiji ratting her out. Now her girlfriend had just handed her the bastard's head on a plate. Sawako turned to look at Mugi; the keyboardist stared at her with saucer eyes.

"Sawa-chan...? Is everything...okay?"

Sighing, the teacher retrieved her chair and set it so it faced Mugi's. "It's like this..."

* * *

><p>Azusa yelped, nearly falling down the tall flight of stairs in her house. She was trying to button her blazer and run down them at the same time. She burst into the kitchen. Her mother was so startled by her impetuous and forceful arrival that she nearly dropped her plate-load of French toast.<p>

"Good morning," Mrs. Nakano greeted humorously, watching her petite daughter flurry about the kitchen.

"Good morning," Azusa returned breathlessly. She threw back a glass of orange juice. Filling a thermos with coffee, she exhaled quickly, "I'm sorry, but I can't stay for breakfast. I agreed to meet someone on the way to school."

"What'll you eat, then?" Mr. Nakano asked.

Azusa helped herself to a piece of toast. "This'll do." She stuffed it between her teeth and dashed toward the door, shouting, " 'Oodfye!"

"Bye," Mrs. Nakano said faintly, but the door had already slammed shut. She moved automatically to the table, set down the plate of French toast, and seated herself across from her husband.

"She's eager to get to school," he commented.

"No, Hikaru," she sighed in exasperation. "She's eager to meet with whomever she's going to meet with."

The front door exploded open and Azusa scurried in. "I f'got somefin'!" she exclaimed around a mouthful of toast. She bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Moments later she reappeared with her gig bag strapped around her. "Thee you affer 'chool!" She threw her hand out in a brief wave before leaving.

Mrs. Nakano winked at her husband. "Azusa's got herself a boyfriend."

Mr. Nakano almost choked on his toast.

* * *

><p>Jun gave a dry smile at Ui's dour expression. She knew the ponytailed girl's hopes had fallen hard over the weekend. Late Friday night found the two of them returning to the Hirasawa residence, Ui hoping against hope that Yui and Azusa hadn't become an official couple. Though it was obvious they had the next day. Azusa hadn't wanted to talk about it, but Yui was too enthusiastically affectionate to be kept quiet. Oblivious to Ui's bitter visage, she had exclaimed, "Azu-nyan says she wants to go out with me!"<p>

"N-not 'go out' as in...um..." Azusa had stammered. She positively glowed with hers and Yui's newfound love, the tenderness swimming in her garnet eyes, but she had wanted to be cautious at first. Now she walked ahead of Ui and Jun, laughing with her girlfriend, the two of them holding hands, unaware of Ui's dagger eyes.

Jun sighed. Ui had shown a lot of restraint over the weekend, the trip to Harajuku notwithstanding. Despite Jun's assurances, the ponytailed girl was still troubled by this. She had wanted to rant, complain, whine, bitch and moan. But she hadn't. _And it's probably because of what I said in Harajuku_. Figuring that a friend in need was a friend indeed, Jun queried, "Something wrong, Ui-chan?"

Ui's face softened to a more vulnerable expression as she looked at Jun. "What do you think oneechan sees in Azusa-chan?"

The darker-haired girl fell silent, turning her eyes forward to the couple in question. Azusa was leaning in to Yui, laughing at something she said. Then Yui added something as an afterthought and the noir-haired kouhai looked up indignantly, her cheeks pink.

"Do you suppose it's the pigtails?" Ui sulked. "'Cause I could look cute with pigtails, too."

"If you say so, K-chan," Jun snickered.

"I'm not like K!" Ui protested.

"And good thing you're not. The last thing I need right now is for my two best friends to get involved in a murder-suicide." Jun was quiet a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek pensively. Then she suggested, "Maybe she loves Azusa-chan's ambition and strong sense of self."

"Ambition, huh, more like tenacity," Ui snorted. But she had to agree; those were plausible reasons for her older sister to fall in love with someone. _You never know unless you find out, though._ "Oneechan!"

Yui and Azusa halted, turned, and waited for Ui and Jun to catch up.

Ui wore her supportive little sister smile as she inquired, "What do you love the most about Azusa-chan?"

"Ui!" Azusa yelled, blushing.

The ponytailed girl's smile broadened at the sloe-haired girl's outrage.

Nonplussed, Yui responded blithely, "Azu-nyan's super-cute! Isn't she?"

"Arahh! Let go of my face! W-we're not in private..."

_Figures it wouldn't have anything to do with her character_, Jun thought humorously.

Cute. That made Ui a little sick. _If being cute's all it takes to win oneechan's heart, why haven't I won it? Am I not cute?_ Misery of the likes she had never experienced consumed Ui on the way to school - misery that was so potently horrible it caused virtual thunderclouds to form over her head.

When they arrived at Sakura High School students were milling about the courtyard. There were ten minutes left till first period began. Yui's first hour class was sociology, but she escourted Azusa to the math wing, where her geometry class was - also, Ui presumed, a private place to kiss good-bye. She shuddered and turned away, leaning against the wall.

Jun smiled gently. "Take it easy. You'll find someone." She placed a delicate hand upon Ui's shoulder, hoping that would be enough to placate her.

"I want oneechan," Ui whined.

Jun withdrew her hand and said honestly, "It's probably nothing against you personally. Yui-chan probably just doesn't go for the whole sister thing." With that she bade Ui good-bye and headed off to Spanish class.

Ui squeezed her full brown eyes shut and let the tears fall. They spilled copiously down her cheeks and dripped from her quivering chin. She cried silently, knowing that a less considerate person than Jun would try to make her feel better.

* * *

><p>AN

Jun makes a reference to the book Kokoro by calling Ui "K."


	13. Fire and Ice

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Thirteen  
><strong>

**Fire and Ice**

"We have to hang out after the concert!" Yui declared cheerfully, swinging hers and Azusa's hands back and forth. She was accompanying the kouhai to her first period geometry class.

"Just the two of us?" the pigtailed girl queried.

Yui nodded exuberantly. She beamed in anticipation of Azusa saying yes.

Azusa almost did say yes. She opened her mouth to affirm; she ended up saying, "I can't."

The senpai's face fell, though she hadn't stopped skipping. "Why not?"

"I have a root canal the day after." Azusa said it blankly, as though she was just now realizing. Preoccupation with their game had diluted her worry about the root canal. She continued, "I hear it's really painful, so I want to be well-rested for it."

"What's a root canal?" Yui inquired. She halted once she felt the tug of her girlfriend's hand; they had arrived at her teacher's door.

Azusa leaned against the wall, her head tipped back. "It's when they drill open your tooth to remove infected nerves from the roots —"

"Aaaa!" Yui moaned in horror, her hands over her mouth. She raised her shoulders to her ears and jumped up and down a bit. "That's horrible! Ugh! You have to have that done to you, Azu-nyan?"

The kouhai nodded and glared aside, grumbling, "The worst part is I'm getting a gold or silver crown afterwards. I'm gonna look like a ranch-hand hill-billy."

Yui stared at Azusa sadly, realizing just how extremely dreadful this whole root canal thing was. Her mind scrambled barrenly, her thoughts whirling uselessly in a disorganized flurry. This was how her mind worked. Once she seemed to have a sensible thought, something would blow it out into chaos. Sort of like raking leaves on a windy day.

"I'll bring you a cake, Azu-nyan!" the senpai blurted. That was the first thing she could think of.

Azusa sighed despondently, her lean shoulders slumping. "I don't think I can eat solid food after the procedure, Yui-senpai." _You'd probably snarf it all anyway, _she added mentally. She smiled weakly. "Thanks, anyway…for the, uh, consideration."

_Oh wow, she looks at me differently! _This thought may have been blown away by Yui's intellectual gale, but the amorous feelings for the diligent younger girl still lingered. While most girls' hearts melted from the heat waves of love, Yui's heart smoldered in the core of its blaze. Whereas other girls would walk about in a dream-like haze, Yui positively radiated jollity and energy. No one else's optimism could match up with hers, and having Azusa with her intensified these glowing feelings.

"Azu-nyaaan!" she gushed, snatching up the pigtailed girl in a formidable bear hug. Azusa's brain, which had been calmly turning over thoughts of the root canal, now had to make the rude transition to the present situation. Yui's face was lunging in close for a kiss. Gasping, Azusa shot her hands out, grasping her head, restraining her. 'Restraint' not being Yui's byword, she strained against her girlfriend's tiny hands, whining, "Azu-nyan…"

"Not here!" she hissed.

"You always face these problems so calmly," Yui argued, "but they really freak you out! I can help you relax!"

"We can't kiss in public!" Azusa insisted. "It attracts gawkers!" That Yui was holding her by her waist was conspicuous enough. The kouhai shot her signature black stare at a few first years who had stopped to observe them.

"Just one kiss?" Yui pleaded. "I have to go to sociology soon, and then I won't get to see you until seventh period."

Azusa locked her copper eyes with her girlfriend's chestnut ones. She wanted to, she really did. Friday night had truly been a more heavenly experience than her sixteen-year-old heart could grasp. Memories of Yui's soft lips and the taste of her tongue overflowed the younger girl's head. Most of all she remembered Yui's smell — a sweet aroma, cool, flowery, almost outdoorsy. _There's an experience I wouldn't mind reliving, _Azusa thought with a smile. She relaxed her hands. Already the gaping first years seemed light years away from the two lovers as Yui's fire met Azusa's ice in a passionate liplock.

In reality it was a brief kiss, maybe three seconds, but it felt like a whole generation had come and gone in this moment. _Lilacs, _Azusa realized, breathing Yui's scent in deep as their lips separated. _She smells like lilacs. _She nuzzled Yui's cheek, taking as much of the smell in her lungs as she could. She would need it to carry her through the day. _Lilacs have always been my favorite._

"Do you wear perfume?" she murmured as they broke their embrace.

"No. Why? Do I smell good?" Yui hitched the collar of her blazer up to her nose, sniffing.

"Yeah, you do," the kouhai sighed with a gentle smile. _How could someone smell so, so good without perfume? _The peal of the warning bell buoyed Azusa back up to the surface. She realized the hallways were clearing. "Five minute warning. You better hurry to sociology."

"Ah! You're right!" Yui's burning tenderness had been blown away in light of this new preoccupation. "See you in drawing media!" She waved and hurried off.

Azusa remained there a minute before heading into her classroom. Yui's heart was on fire with love, and Azusa's was melting in its heat waves.

* * *

><p>With their concert only in four days, Afterschool Tea Time's boredom from having to rehearse the same tunes over and over turned into a sort of confidence. They were ready for the concert. Bring it on! Mugi was probably the eagerest, despite the fact she hadn't received a performance time in the solo contest yet.<p>

As usual, the six of them took their tea. Today's special was milk tea with buttery, flaky madeleines. The ever-observant Sawako was privy to the subtle changes that permeated Music Room 3. For one, the seating arrangement at the table had changed. Light Music Club members and their sponsor were arranged more in pairs than a whole group. If the table were viewed overhead, clockwise the order would go such: Sawako, Mugi, Yui, Azusa, Mio, and Ritsu.

Azusa had sparked an engrossing convo about rock history and phenomena, and everybody was very eagerly engaged. Sawako glanced aside at Mugi. The ojou, who was more familiar with the world of classical music, soaked in everything she could. Verbally, she was conversing with her bandmates. But she had her body more aligned with Sawako. This was another observation of hers: how everyone seemed to physically communicate with each other. Mio scolded Ritsu for suggesting Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain, but under the table Sawako could see the bassist's ankles hugging Ritsu's right leg.

"Mugi-senpai," Azusa spoke up. "Why did you bring that other keyboard?" She pointed at the Yamaha keyboard propped up against the farthest wall.

Yui's jaw fell and she gasped. There was a soft slap as her hands came to her cheeks. "You're not replacing Korgy-chan, are you?"

"Nice name," Ritsu commented.

"I could never!" Mugi blurted, turning her body away from Sawako momentarily. Embarrassed by her outburst, she apologized and sighed, "It's an impulse purchase my father made."

"Gum is an impulse purchase." Ritsu was agog with disbelief. "That is more than just gum!" _How rich is she, anyway?_

"I have to figure out what to do with it." Mugi looked at the Yamaha as a teacher would a problem-child: something you want the best for, but really, you just want it to disappear.

"In the meantime..." Sawako set down her cup decisively. "...I have to get y'all out to Yokohama to get this concert scheduled. Y'all available tonight?"

"We're not," replied Azusa, gesturing at Yui and herself.

"I'm not," Mio spoke, and Ritsu jumped in with, "Ditto."

Sawako turned toward Mugi to ask about her availability, but the keyboardist's rueful expression answered her. The sensei blinked and glared about the table. "None of you? Y'all 'ready made plans?"

Four heads nodded _en masse_. Mugi murmured something about her solo contest.

"Azusa-chan." Without warning, the sensei turned on the wee kouhai, who squeaked in surprise. The late afternoon sunlight played upon Sawako's glasses. "Since when do you speak for Yui-chan?" She grinned. "Have you made plans with her?"

Azusa's mouth wagged open, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Yui, on the other hand, could. "We did make plans," she responded cheerily. "We're going to this sushi bar that opened up by that restaurant Balzac." Next to her, the pigtailed girl sighed in defeat. She knew she couldn't have it both ways — they'd already kissed in public. It was time to make their relationship official and known.

"You told me you weren't dating!" Sawako exclaimed.

"We are now," Azusa smiled. She kept her head down. From under her obsidian brows, her garnet eyes peeped and flickered about the table, assessing her friends' reactions. Sawako had her hands gripping the table's edge, a look of satisfied confirmation on her face. Mugi appeared to be barely able to contain herself; her hands were clasped, as if in prayer, and her blue eyes swam and shone in wonder. To Mugi, Yui and Azusa's relationship was like the second coming. Mio had an eyebrow raised, and her eyes drifted from Yui to Azusa, as if trying to match them up as a couple. Ritsu's expression was one of quiet surprise before she grinned and turned to Sawako.

"Give it a rest. If they're dating, they're dating. We shouldn't judge them, least of all you, Sawa-chan-sensei. Still haven't found a boyfriend, eh?"

"Uhh, Ritsu-chan," Mugi spoke up, but her voice was too soft to be heard amidst the argument that now broke out betwixt teacher and drummer.

"I see you've found someone," Sawako retorted, "or has she found you?"

"Don't drag Mio into this!" Ritsu yelled, witdrawing her leg sharply from her girlfriend's grasp. "You're just jealous because everyone here's found the right person for them, and you're still alone!"

"That's not true," Mugi squeaked, but she was drowned out by her girlfriend's furious reply.

"You're eighteen! What do you know about love?"

"A helluva lot more than you. Who's the single one here?"

Mugi had had enough. Here Ritsu was, insulting her beloved Sawako, and the sensei was just taking it. What was Sawako cow-towing to Ritsu for? She was a teacher! Mugi pinched her lower lip into her front teeth and a piercing whistle of nigh canine frequencies stopped the spat. The keyboardist stared sorrily at Mio, Azusa, and Yui, who had their ears covered, before addressing Ritsu and Sawako.

"Stop fighting already!...please," she added feebly. She never had believed in lashing out to get a point across. "Ritsu-chan, what you're saying to Sawa-chan is horrible. She shouldn't have to be in a relationship to get your respect. Being that she's a teacher, she should get your respect regardless."

Ritsu blinked her topaz eyes wide. If the wolf-whistle wasn't shocking enough, soft-spoken Mugi was actually reprimanding her. And in Sawako's defense, to boot.

"Further," Mugi continued, "she's not single."

Mio saw the jolt on her girlfriend's face; she was similarly thunderstruck. There was only one appropriate was to respond to this statement, but Mugi's gentle chastisement had the drummer beaten into submission.

Mio said, "Mugi-chan...It's not that I want to fight or argue with you...but how do you know that Sawako-sensei's not single?"

Hot blood tingled in Mugi's cheeks and an electric zap shot along her flank. She simpered and giggled, causing more amorous energy to bubble up in her extremities. She was now reduced to a heartsick first year. When she spoke, her voice was a trilling sing-song used only by girls who are deeply in love. "I know because Sawa-chan and I are not single for each other." She scooted her chair closer to Sawako. The ojou's hands grasped the sensei's right hand as she kissed Sawako warmly on the cheek.

_I thought so_. Mio couldn't help but smile for the two of them. They weren't clingy or gross like most couples were. But the bassist could tell just how devoted they were to each other. And really, it couldn't have happened to nicer people. They were, after all, her inspiration for Light and Fluffy Time.

"Sensei, why do you look so shell-shocked?" Azusa queried.

"Well, it's...Nothing. Moot point." She waved aside the issue. Telling them about Tokudaiji wouldn't help matters any.

Ritsu leaned her elbows on the table. "So...what? Everybody fell in love with each other on Halloween?"

"Looks like it," Mio affirmed.

"It is a pretty odd coincidence," Mugi nodded, still holding Sawako's hand, "but, you know, the moon did wax full on October 31st. That might have some astrological explanation." It wasn't an explanation that would satisfy her father, though. Mugi was suddenly wondering how she would tell Holt about this one. Knowing Holt, though, he was liable to disregard or completely forget that she loved a woman. The teacher thing might ruffle his feathers. And what about Veronique?

Ritsu impetuously sat up, her face bright and animated. "I know what you can do with that Yamaha keyboard!" Gesturing excitedly, she posed her suggestion. It was a good idea to her, amazing even. Definitely legendary. Lots of rock stars did this to their instruments. Jimi Hendrix did this to his guitar...Or was it somebody else?...Maybe it was definitely Jimi Hendrix.

"That's insane!" Mio and Azusa blurted simultaneously. "She can't do that!" Mio added.

Ritsu shrugged. She leaned back and clasped her fingers behind her head, as her father did when he made an offer. "Just a suggestion. Take it or leave it."

"I...don't know." Fidgeting, Mugi gave the Yamaha her problem-child stare. "It seems...a little cruel..."

Yui nodded in fervent empathy. "How could anyone do that? I could never do Gitah like that!"

"It shows utter disrespect for the instrument," Azusa chimed, arms crossed.

"I think it sounds friggin' awesome!" Sawako exclaimed. "Though I can't see Mugi-chan doing it, I think she totally should!"

Mugi's cerulean eyes widened as she looked at the teacher. Now that she thought about it, Ritsu's idea sounded like something Sawako would do. She wondered if her girlfriend would admire her for doing such a thing to the Yamaha. The blonde girl murmured, "Well...Perhaps I could..."

Azusa was flabbergasted. "What? Now that Sawako-sensei approves of it, it's no longer cruel?"

"It's not that," said Mugi defensively. "I agree with Yui-chan. However, Gitah's not the same as that Yamaha. Gitah is more in the same league as Korgy. I could never do that to Korgy, but to the Yamaha..." She shrugged.

"Yea-hah!" Sawako laughed. "Wait'll I tell Asumi-neesan about that! This concert's gonna rock ultimate!"

* * *

><p>The next Light Music Club meeting found the band not in Music Room 3, or even in that town. It found them on the collegiate Kobucha Street outside the tinted doors of Hair, the lesbian cosplay bar owned by Sawako's cousin. Kobucha Street was the busiest avenue on Yoko Uni's campus. It was also the biggest, spanning from one end of Yokohama to the other. It compassed several bars, restaurants, and cafes — Murphy's was a popular Friday night hang-out for the university students — and on the corner of Kobucha and Ujicha stood the enormous Yokohama University Bookstore, where in its windows countless amounts of orange and blue paraphenelia were displayed.<p>

_I wonder why all the streets are named after tea?_ Mugi thought, glancing about.

Behind them, on the narrow street, a bus rumbled by, igniting Yui's excitement further. She bounced up and down, whining, "When are we gonna go iiiinnnnn?"

"Stop behaving so childishly," Azusa scolded.

"This is our venue! This is where we're performing in three days! Aren't you excited?"

"Well..." The kouhai gave in and let the huge smile she had been surpressing show up full on her young face. It wasn't Budoukan or Top of the Pops or Pitchfork. But it was a step in the right direction. Her parents in their youth started out performing in the dingy jazz house where they had gotten their guitar lessons (as had Azusa in primary school). "Yeah. I can't believe we're finally performing to people who aren't our classmates!"

Sawako grinned and grabbed the doorknob. "We've stood here gawking at this place long enough. Let's go in!"

The sensei shoved the door open as noisily as she could. Framed by the blinding light of the real world outside, she sang, "Hey, this is not Sawa-neesan!"

"Sawako, you old nut!" Ritsu blinked in the wan light of the musty bar, and saw the silhouette of a very short woman behind the bar. "Last time we saw each other I did tai chi and you were a metalhead!"

"Well, one of us had to change..."

Sawako's cousin hummed reflectively a bit as her hand dragged a rag slowly across the top of the bar. Once the band members' eyes adjusted to the light, they could see her better. She was short and stocky with spikey shoulder-length brown hair with blonde high-lights. She wore plastic frame glasses and had a lip piercing. She wore a low-cut black T-shirt baring inches of tantilizing cleavage and simple flare-leg blue jeans.

"...Hey, wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "You were making fun of me, weren't you?"

"Nailed it! Took ya long enough!" Her cousin puffed up and Sawako laughed. Gesturing at the five Light Music Club members, she explained, "This is the opening band I got for your New Order show: Afterschool Tea Time. Hirasawa Yui, Tainaka Ritsu, Akiyama Mio, Kotobuki Mugi, and Nakano Azusa. This is my cousin, Yamanaka Asumi."

"Hi," Ritsu greeted. "Are you as bat-crap nuts as Sawa-chan-sensei?"

"Well met, Ritsu-neesan," Asumi said flatly, narrowing her eyes at the drummer. Addressing Sawako, she inquired, "Which one did you say was the...how did you put it?...the 'impertinent runt with the forehead of doom'?"

"Runt!" the drummer squawked. There was an insult she hadn't heard in ten years. In primary school she was known as Runtsu. "Look who's talkin'," she muttered angrily.

Asumi's hazel eyes drifted from Ritsu to Mio standing directly behind her and they lit up instantly. "Weh-hell...Who ordered the late night entertainment?"

Mio blinked. "Nani?"

Asumi stepped out from behind the bar and pranced up to the bassist. Getting a good gander at the raven-haired girl, she remarked sarcastically, "Lay off the cookie dough once in a while, aneesan. Look at that body — it's disgusting!"

A virtual shadow fell over Mio's eyes, which were now hooded by her bangs. She self-consciously brought a hand to her middle. _Am I really getting fat?_

Asumi giggled and elbowed Mio in the ribs. "Just kidding, Mio-neesan." Then the bartender was back to ogling. Mio squeaked in alarm as Asumi reached from behind to cup her breasts through her uniform. "I could create a new drink named after your knockers!" She called out to the kitchen help: "Konoka-san! Make me a Stacked Bass Player and hold the cantaloupes!"

POW!

The hit came not from Mio, but Ritsu. "Hands off," she yelled as Asumi sank to the floor with a pulsing head-lump.

"Understood..." the bartender muttered dizzily. "I'll just look...Y'know, kinda like being a diabetic in Baskin Robbins..."

"More like a crackbrain in a padded room with a rubber duck! I take back what I said earlier — you're _worse_ than Sawa-chan-sensei!"

Moments later Asumi was back on her feet, regarding Mio with a huge grin. "I sure hope you're the frontwoman of this band. The girls here'll love you!"

"I'm not," Mio said quickly. This was becoming a realization of one of her worst nightmares. "She is." She pointed at Yui.

Azusa pressed closer to Yui, giving Asumi her warning stare as the bartender approached the senpai. Asumi paced a slow circle around the couple. "Well...You're no Mio-neesan, but you've got some appeal of your own...Do you ski?"

"No," Yui responded, her head and eyes following Asumi's path.

"You should try it. You got the legs for it."

Azusa hugged Yui's arm, growling a little. She didn't like this. They were a band that was going to play at Asumi's bar and as such the bartender should've been judging them based on their music. Rather, Asumi was assessing their looks and sex appeal, as if they were strippers auditioning for Amateur Night.

"So, aneesan," Asumi cooed, sidling up to Mio, "what's _your_ favorite sex position?"

Outraged, Ritsu grabbed a salt shaker and hurled it at the lecherous bartender. Her aim was off, though, way off. It soared toward the kitchen entrance from which emerged a cute girl — a little younger than Azusa — with long brown hair, shelf bangs, and a raspberry-colored school uniform. She blinked in surprise. The salt shaker nearly clocked the poor girl when —

PSHING!

In a rush of cold steel, the salt shaker was bisected. Salt exploded from its former container like early snow. Ritsu regretted throwing the shaker when she found herself face-to-face with the business end of a nodachi. She stared down its great length right into the slanted jet eyes of another girl in similar attire as the first girl. This girl had shoulder-length obsidian hair gathered in an edgy ponytail on the right side of her head.

"I will destroy anyone who brings danger to Konoka-ojousama!" she declared. Her voice was a terrifyingly deep alto roar.

Ritsu's trembling hands flew up. "Hey, cool your jets there. I didn't mean to hit your friend, I swear I didn't!" she gulped.

The samurai's short eyebrows lifted slightly as she reconsidered decapitating Ritsu. _She's friendly_, the drummer realized. "I meant for the salt shaker to hit Asumi-aho. She had her hands all over my Mio!"

The girl's face softened and she lowered her sword away from Ritsu's face. Sheathing it, she muttered darkly, "When Asumi-san put her hand up Konoka-ojousama's skirt I wanted to kill her."

The other girl, with the shelf bangs, pouted. "I just got you to stop calling me ojousama, Secchan!"

The girl with the sword blushed. "U-uh, sorry about that, ojousama — I mean...!"

Asumi laughed and detached herself from Mio. "I see you've met Konoka-san and Setsuna-san. They just recently started working here."

Mio shuddered. She felt deep sympathy for anyone who had to work under Asumi.

"Konoka-san..." the bartender gestured at the girl with the shelf bangs. "...could easily work her way up to manager with her mad culinary skills. And Setsuna-san..." she gestured at the girl with the nodachi. "...insists she has no skills, but she makes a mean tequila sunset. Knocks everybody out, so it does."

"I wish it wouldn't," Setsuna murmured shyly. "I'm trying to fix it so it doesn't knock people out."

"Ahh, if it ain't broke, why fix it?"

"But—"

"Stop beatin' yourself up, get behind that bar, and fix up six tequila sunsets!" Turning her palms toward the ceiling, Setsuna complied. Asumi faced the Light Music Club and declared, "First round's on me!"

"But," Azusa spoke up, "we're underage. Most of us."

"She's got middle schoolers working in a bar," said Sawako. "Legality is the last thing on her mind."

"Would you like something to eat?" Konoka offered, producing six menus. "The soup du jour is a Chinese sweet and sour sort. I highly recommend it."

"Sold," Mugi smiled. Konoka got everyone's orders in a memo book, then hurried into the kitchen.

Asumi brought the band and her cousin to a cozy padded booth and sat with them. Yui liked booths before, but now that she could sit so close to Azusa, she loved them. They had just gotten settled when Konoka breezed out of the kitchen on roller blades, balancing a tray loaded with piping hot delicious food. The sweet and sour soup Mugi ordered never once spilled over the rim of the bowl.

"That was _fast_," Sawako commented as Konoka set out the food. "You're like Speedy Gonzolas."

"That's what she said," Asumi winked. "'She' in this case would be Setsuna-san, eh, Konoka-san?"

The brune ojou stood simpering a moment or two before the joke dawned on her. Blushing slightly, she giggled, "Secchan and I haven't gone that far yet."

"Right. Take your time. You're both young."

It was then that Setsuna brought six tequila sunsets to their table. Konoka leaned a gentle hand on her girlfriend's shoulder and nuzzled her neck. Swiftly serving up the drinks, Setsuna murmured, "Compliments of Asumi-san. I tried to put less tequila in it. Enjoy." She bowed and followed Konoka into the kitchen.

"They're cute together," Yui commented with a giggle.

Asumi nodded assent. "That they are, Yui-neesan. Oh, that was so a Lucky Star reference! Score!"

* * *

><p>To say that the Light Music Club was bombed was an understatement. Inhibitions had been shed and everyone's true colors were showing. Everyone, that is, save for Azusa. The kittenish kouhai was hit especially hard by the tequila sunset due to her size. Setsuna had indeed worked her magic (no pun intended): Nakano Azusa was out like a light.<p>

"I'm jealous," Yui half-whined, mostly-slurred. "She gets to sleep!"

_She gets to sleep_. Mio found that wildly funny. She was slumped back in her seat and nearly sank to the floor in laughter. Hauling herself back up, she gasped, "Do you...heeheehee...Do you want to sleep, Yui?"

"Yeah, I do..."

"Eheheheh. Well, then...Go to sleep!" Yui stared blankly ahead of her, only dimly aware of Mio's shoe flying past her head. The bassist blinked her bleary gray eyes, aggravated. "How'd I miss? Your...your 'ead was right there."

Sawako was completely oblivious to Yui and Mio's drunken exchange. Contrary to most people's impressions of her, the teacher was actually dead silent when she was drunk. It wasn't something she knew how to explain. She definitely didn't feel inhibited. She...just didn't feel the need to speak.

To her left, Mugi was tugging at her sleeve. Sawako turned to face her girlfriend, whose face was flushed with tequila and whose eyes swirled and shone brightly.

"Sawa-chaaaan," she sighed, letting her head drop heavily on the sensei's shoulder. "The room is...moving...Gosh, no wonder Holt likes doing this..."

Sawako blinked, dimly surprised that Mugi had so rudely called her father by name. She opened her mouth to acknowledge this point. She ended up closing it, deciding that speaking took more effort than she was willing to put out.

Mio was laughing again, this time at Ritsu. The drummer was also floored by the power of tequila (which only the power of gin can compete with), but not to the point of passing out. She was trying to dig through Mio's pockets...if she could find Mio's pockets.

"Stop movin', Mio-chuan!" Ritsu protested in the loudest voice anyone had ever heard her use. Girls occupying nearby tables turned to look at them.

The bassist was practically breathless with laughter. 'I'm not, you drunken slut!"

"Hey, hey!" Ritsu wagged a finger in Mio's face. "I won' argue the slut part for now...but I'll be damned if I'm drunk!"

"Then I guess you're goin' a hell! Hahaha!"

"Bitch, please." Ritsu hiccuped, laying her head down on the table. "I 'as doomed to go to hell as soon as I crawled outta the womb...Li'l thin' called predestination!"

Yui raised her weighted glass which swayed in her weighted arm. "I don' know wha' that is, but I believe in it! To predewhatever!"

"yeah!" Ritsu shrieked, smacking her glass against Yui's. "We'll star' our own church! I'll be the priest 'n you c'n be the Mother Superior!"

"Guys...? Guys, guys, guys!" Mugi threw her hands up and Mio giggled. "I...have something really important to say!" The keyboardist stood up, nearly falling over in the process. Mio was rocking helplessly with laughter at Mugi's determined expression. The blonde girl raised her right hand, as if to make a vow, then brought it to her heart, turned her Romanesque nose upward, and closed her eyes. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of Political Corruption and Hopelessly Eternal Debt—"

"Okay, sit down! No political statements!" Ritsu yanked Mugi's blazer, forcing the ojou to sit down.

Tsumugi wasn't finished, though. "Why doesn't Holt get involved in international politics?" she babbled. "He could save Americaaaa!"

Chuckling, Mio withdrew her hand from her blazer pocket. She was holding her digital camera. Ritsu sat up and exclaimed, "That's wha' I was lookin' for earlier!...I think."

"These are precious moments, you guys," Mio slurred, snapping a picture of the unconscious Azusa. "We nee' to preserve them...'cause...'cause I'm gonna miss you guys..."

Tears bulged from Yui's brown eyes. "Mio-chan...I'm gonna miss you, too..."

"Stop being so morbid," Ritsu ordered, laying her head back down on the table. "No one's dying or anything."

"Well, we all...die eventually, Ricchan," Mio argued, swaying slightly. She lifted her glass to her mouth, then realized it was empty. "Tha's all our goals'n'dreams come down to...eventual death..." She began laughing again, leaning against the table's edge. "Ohohoho...Why's tha' funny? Hahahaha!"

"Because you're...technologically retarded...?"

Still guffawing, Mio swung her fist out at Ritsu's head, but missed and hit the table. Azusa, amazingly, kept snoozing, seeming neither to hear the slam of fist on wood nor feel its shock. Mio cussed a blue streak as she shook out her sore, tingling hand.

"Gahh, Ricchan, why's your 'ead made outta wood?...'Cause you're druuuuunnnnnk!"

"I'm not drunk!"

"Well, I do certainly hope you're drunk," said Asumi, approaching their booth. "Because if you're sober, there's something very wrong with you." This made Mio howl with laughter. Addressing the whole table, Asumi offered, "'Nother round, ladies? Though Azusa-nekochan doesn't look fit to take another."

Yui queried, "If I take another drink...will I...be able to sleep? Like Azu-nyan?"

"Probably."

"Then I'll take another..."

Asumi nodded. "Anyone else?...Sawa-neesan?" she inquired as Sawako wordlessly raised her hand. "Right. Two tequila sunsets comin' right up." As the bartender made her way to the kitchen, it dawned on her that she'd seen hair nor hide of Konoka or Setsuna. For the past hour Asumi had been behind the bar, zoning out; business at Hair never picked up until around 20:00.

She poked her head in the kitchen entrance. Konoka and Setsuna were cuddled up on the floor with their backs against a tall cabinet. As they swapped the nearly empty Jose Cuervo bottle back and forth, Setsuna flipped through an old yearbook from their first year in middle school.

"Y'know," Setsuna slurred. Her face was pinkish and she wore a silly grin on her face. "I look back on those years...when I couldn't speak to you...'n I just laaaaaaugh."

"I don't," Konoka exclaimed, stung. With an effort, she sat up. "You really...hur' me, Secchan..."

Setsuna blinked in amazement. The healer passed her the bottle, and the samurai finished it off. Setting the bottle and the yearbook aside, she faced Konoka. "I'm sooooo sorry 'bout that."

Konoka grinned and waved her hand. "'S okay. Really."

"No. It's...gonna be diff'rent from...now on, Kono-chan..." Setsuna let her head, heavy with inebriation, drop to Konoka's shoulder. "We're gon' talk about deep'n'heavy stuff...alla time!...Soooo...Wha' deep'n'heavy things you wan' talk about?"

Sighing, Konoka leaned her head against her girlfriend's. She traced her fingers along the path of Setsuna's hair, right to where it was bound on the right side of her head. Her brown eyes drifted about in search of something intense to talk about. They settled on the Jose Cuervo bottle. She beamed. "Tequila!"

"Really?" Setsuna mumbled.

"No," Konoka laughed. "JK. Uhh..." Still shaking with mirth, she looked up at the ceiling. Finding nothing there, she faced Setsuna again. "I'll let you in on a secret..."

The samurai lifted her short eyebrows in interest.

"I always..." The healer paused to giggle. She ran her fingers delicately along Setsuna's thin lips. "I always...thought you were kinda hot..."

"H-huh?" Had she been sober, Setsuna would have torn herself away, babbled a convenient excuse, and ran off. But the booze had her limbs anchored and her inhibitions down. She remained seated as she was, allowing Konoka to trace her hands along her angular face, down the porcelain skin of her throat.

"Those bike shorts you wear drive me crazy," the healer purred. She undid Setsuna's necktie. The silken tie slid out from under her collar smoothly and swiftly. "Everytime a convenient wind blows your skirt up...I just lose my mind..." Setsuna slid backwards a little until she was reclined flat on her back. Konoka mounted her and unhooked the buttons on her blazer.

Asumi turned and left the kitchen then. There was no reason for her to stay. _Crazier things have happened in that kitchen._

* * *

><p>AN

Boy, did I get hate-mail about this one. I guess I'd forgotten we were still living in the Prohibition era after 90 years. How dare I write about teenagers experimenting with alcohol! HOW DARE I! However, the reviewer who gave me the most static about this (in list form, how's that for asshole-ness?) is actually a troll, I suspect...and trolls, as we know, are not human. I considered having its review removed from the old story, then decided against it, because that bum review made it more like a bad reader than it made me look like a bad writer. I'm fine with bum reviews and all, they're part of the writing process, I just don't like harassment. 

And don't even question Konoka and Setsuna drinking. There was loads of underage drinking in Negima!_  
><em>


	14. Ecrives Tu avec la Man Gauche?

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Fourteen  
><strong>

**Écrives-Tu avec la Man Gauche?**

_Everything is A-okay, _Ritsu thought cheerily, her head still buzzing pleasantly from the tequila sunset. A similarly pleasant sunset looked upon the drummer, her girlfriend, Yui, and Azusa as they stumbled along the quiet streets of their hometown. Against the laws of biology, Ritsu had sobered up before Mio, who leaned against the brunette tipsily. The two of them held hands and walked ahead of Yui and Azusa.

Azusa was in quite a state. Upon waking up the kouhai was immediately slammed with a mind-numbing headache. And her mind wasn't the only thing that was numb. Her tongue lolled heavily in her mouth, senseless but useable for speaking. Azusa, however, didn't feel like speaking. Everyone's voices — even Mio's — felt like a rusty spike in the base of her skull.

_A curse on all tequila, _the kouhai thought miserably. She wished she could lay down.

"Mio-chan," Yui called, and Azusa flinched. "Can I see your camera?"

The bassist gripped the cord attached to her digital camera and pulled it out of her pocket. She passed it to Yui.

The elder guitarist scrolled through the blurry, poorly-focused pictures Mio had taken in Hair. At last she came upon the one she was looking for. She showed it to Azusa.

It was a decent photograph of the kouhai in her drunken stupor. Her tiny hands were balled into fists, her wrists crossed cat-like on the table, and her face was mashed against them. Azusa found the picture genuinely funny, but she couldn't work up the energy to laugh. "'S funny," she whispered, dropping her head against Yui's arm. _No wonder I've no recollection of this afternoon._

Yui returned the camera to Mio and put her arm around Azusa. "You okay?"

Azusa closed her eyes. "Just exhausted."

"How can you be exhausted?...Sorry," she whispered as the pigtailed girl covered her ears.

"She's got a hangover," Ritsu told Yui over her shoulder. "That's what happens after you go to sleep drunk."

The four of them continued down the sleepy subdivision. The streets were empty for a time until parked cars clustered more and more on the curbs. Mio couldn't help but feel a little déjà vu. She had been here before. She had. Ahead of her she could see the sycamore tree which blocked her everyday destination as a child which was….

"Oh, my," she gasped, lifting her head off Ritsu's shoulder.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" the drummer grinned.

"What does?" Yui queried.

"Torimizu Primary. Where Mio and I went to primary school."

The elder guitarist squinted and shielded her eyes. An enormous tree blocked her view of Torimizu.

Ritsu smirked. "We should head over there for old times' sake, Mio."

"It's 17:00. School's out," the bassist said flatly.

"N'uh-uh. _Mite._" The drummer jabbed a finger at Torimizu's glowing announcement sign. A bulletin posted next to the likeness of a smiling apple read: PARENTS' NIGHT TONIGHT. "I wonder if Abe-sensei still works there…"

"I think she retired," said Mio.

"More like you _hope _she retired! Let's go say hi."

They were at a street corner. Across the street stood Torimizu like an everlasting sprite sentinel over pencils, books, and teachers' dirty looks. Ritsu and Mio's arms pulled as they walked in opposite directions: the drummer across the street toward Torimizu, the bassist around the corner away from Torimizu.

"Come on, Mio!" Ritsu laughed. "Not scared, are you?"

"Yes."

"What do you think's gonna happen if we say hi to Abe-sensei?"

"I don't know…"

"Well then, let's go!"

"No! Abe-sensei hated me!"

"Ne? She hated me, too."

Azusa squeezed her eyes shut, her brain stinging and spinning with every ear-splitting word that was exchanged betwixt the two lovers. Closing her eyes, however, made her feel like _she _was spinning, and the infinite blackness created by her eyelids as well.

She finally spoke up. "I don't care where we go, so long as you both stop screaming."

"Then it's decided," Ritsu crowed, punching the air. "To Torimizu-gakuen we go!"

Mio still adamantly refused to go. In the end she settled for waiting at the corneruntil the three of them would return. Just as their silhouettes disappeared behind the sycamore, Mio heard the slow, heavy slaps of shoe soles on the sidewalk. She turned and, squeaking in shock, found herself face-to-face with a strong-looking man old enough to be her father.

"Are you looking for a job, miss?" he rumbled. He smelled like bad cologne and cigarettes.

"No…!" Shell-shocked, Mio scurried off toward Torimizu, screaming, "Ricchan, wait for meee!"

The three of them were just at the primary school's double door entrance when Mio ran up to them. Ritsu joined her hand with her girlfriend's and inquired, "What changed your mind?"

The bassist shuddered. "Let's say it was more of a push factor than a pull factor."

Ritsu smiled softly, knowing something had scared Mio like always. It was either that or being back at Torimizu that made the drummer feel extra nostalgic and affectionate toward her girlfriend. She hugged Mio's arm, running her hand up and down the sleeve, and the raven-haired girl ceased shaking.

The clatter of the double doors felt like a flashback to Mio and Ritsu as the four of them entered the fluorescent-lighted main hallway. The extracurricular classrooms existed in this hallway. If one kept going down this hall and turned left, he or she would be heading towards the bathrooms, drinking fountains, headmaster's office, nurse's office, gym, and cafeteria. Right would take him or her to the actual classrooms. Ritsu could smell crayons and glue as they passed grouchy old Kimino-sensei's art room and turned right.

Mio hesitated. "Abe-sensei's room was at the very end of this hallway, right?"

Ritsu nodded. "Ah-yup." She flicked a thumb over her shoulder. "Headmaster-sensei's office was down at the very opposite end. Long walk from Abe-sensei's room to there."

Mio grinned. "Which you had to make frequently."

Yui gaped at the drummer in amazement. "Ricchan got sent to the headmaster's office a lot?"

"That surprises you?" the bassist laughed. "She was awful, the bane of all teachers and staff. She talked nonstop in class, threw spitballs, and started food fights in lunch."

All was quiet for a moment as Ritsu's (apologetic) input was awaited. When they heard nought, they turned to see the drummer simpering, eyes glazed, a shimmer of sparkles dancing about her. She had the aura of I'm Reliving the Glory Days.

"And," Mio continued bitterly, "she doesn't seem to feel one bit bad about it." Agitated, she pulled a Sharpie from her blazer pocket, uncapped it, and scrawled something on her girlfriend's forehead.

"What did you write?" the drummer demanded to know. She vaguely traced her hand about her brow.

"'Stormy petrel,'" Mio grinned, capping her marker. "Abe-sensei used to call you that, remember?"

"What's a stormy petrel?" Yui asked.

"A class clown," Ritsu replied. "Abe-sensei had all sorts of words for the most basic things. She called Mio 'sinistromanuel,' which means lefty."

Azusa said, "It sounds like she reads the thesaurus in her spare time."

They headed down the long, narrow hallway, Ritsu anxiously protesting that she couldn't face Mrs. Abe with 'stormy petrel' written on her forehead. Mio dragged her along by her cheek, refusing to take her to the girls' room and wash the Kanji off. Their prediction proved correct: Mrs. Abe's room was the very last one, as the sign by her door revealed. Before they could enter Yui pointed at the doorframe. "What's that?"

"Ah!" Mio crouched on the floor. On the lower half of the doorframe were some etches made with a permanent marker. Half the etches had the initials "TR" written next to them; the other half said "AM." Mio explained, "These were mine and Ricchan's height comparison charts."

"Oh! Ui and I had the same thing when we were little."

"Hmph," Ritsu grunted. "I never was taller…but I will be someday."

Readjusting her skirt, Mio stood up. The knotty woodwork of Mrs. Abe's door silently confronted her. Sighing deeply, the bassist raised her fist to knock, then lowered it. She ran her hand through her bangs, tugged at the tie about her neck. Groaning impatiently, Ritsu opened the door and shoved Mio in.

Mio stumbled, nearly tripping over that desk in the back corner confined for insubordinate students (namely one Tainaka-san). The bassist's slate eyes widened and darted frantically. It was both a flashback and a nightmare all rolled into one. It was there, all there. The thirty-one desks arranged into rows with that one seat by itself. The chalkboard. Mio's heart pounded volcanically as she stiffly turned her head toward the back. She gasped. Yes…That was there, too. The table. The wobbly round table li'l Akiyama Mio, age six, was remanded to during penmanship lessons.

On its own accord, Mio's left hand drifted to settle in her pocket. When she was little she habitually stuck it in her pocket to keep herself from using it. Her chest felt stiff and tight; she hadn't been breathing. With an effort, Mio drew in a ragged little breath.

"Hello…?"

The raven-haired girl squealed and jumped three feet into the air. She knew that voice: deep, and with the texture of rocks crunching under a tire. Mio turned, forcing herself to face the malice of her existence. Her first grade teacher!

Mrs. Abe looked…well, the same mostly. She was chubbier, had more wrinkles; and her eyes were smaller, beadier. The old woman's thin — almost nonexistent — eyebrows knitted as she queried, "Are you perhaps connatural to Saotome Tadashi? You compass sufficient physical similarity."

"N-no…Um, hello." Mio stood up straight, lifting her chin. She realized it was crude to stand with one hand in her pocket. She clasped them in front of her hips. "It's me."

Mrs. Abe seemed to be under stress. She huffed in annoyance. "Yes, it's me, too. Now that we're in accordance that we're ourselves, why not you to me do state your appellation and the business which you with me bear?"

_She hasn't changed a bit. _That was a relief in its own weird way. Mio smiled. "I'm here because an old classmate of mine and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought we'd drop by." At the mention of an old classmate, Mrs. Abe set down her pencil and stared intently at Mio, trying to put a name to her face. The raven-haired girl continued, "In fact, I know this other classmate was _SO EAGER _to see you…" Mio leaned an arm out the door. Mrs. Abe could hear a very familiar voice, but with a deeper timber: "Chotto, chotto, Miooo!" and with a squawk, the stormy petrel was dragged in.

The old woman's jaw fell. She slumped in her chair, as if knocked back by the raw force of memory. "Akiyama-san and Tainaka-san…" She closed her eyes. It couldn't be. Akiyama-san to Mrs. Abe was still a shy sinistromanuel, reticent and easily spooked. Tainaka-san had been a disorderly upstart, always outraged, always questioning, never raising her hand first.

One of them seemingly hadn't changed at all.

"Tainaka-san," Mrs. Abe snapped, "the state of your uniform is abominable! Fix it now!"

"Hai!" Ritsu shoved her shirttails in her skirt and buttoned her blazer. She hated the suffocating, enclosed feeling it gave her.

"And your stature! Plumb your backside! Akiyama-san bears a higher height — she is absolutely Junoesque — and she does not angle her spine with the manner which you do. Are you aware of the amount of beanstalk women who slouch? You, Tainaka-san, being knee-high to an ant, bear no excuse!"

"Hai!" Ritsu threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She felt like a giraffe.

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est_?" Mrs. Abe squawked, jabbing a finger. "Your pretty visage, Tainaka-san, vandalized! I have knowledge that you favored scribing notes on your appendage, but now your sinciput? An all-out tribulation it will be for you to read that."

"She did it!" Ritsu cried, pointing at Mio.

"Tattletale!" Mio protested.

Once Mrs. Abe was through chastising her former students for their various misdoings, from Ritsu's hair to Mio's socks, she resumed working at her desk and caught up with them.

"More years it has been from the last instant we exchanged sentences than this old educator can fathom. How many years do the duo of you have?"

"Eighteen," said Ritsu.

"Seventeen," said Mio.

"By St. Peter, is that so?" As eccentric as Mrs. Abe was, she still had that well-aren't-you-the-cleverst-little-boy-or-girl-in-the-world voice that all primary teachers had. "The cognitive weight of university must be heavy on your brains. To where will you go come April?"

Their answer was one and simultaneous: "Japan Women's University."

"Superb university," Mrs. Abe acclaimed. "My daughter went there, and my granddaughter is now a sophomore there." It chilled Mio and Ritsu's blood to think of Mrs. Abe raising a child. "What will your majors be?"

Again, a synchronous answer: "Undeclared." Mio added, "I'm leaning towards rhetoric."

"And with that major you will do what?" the old woman exclaimed. "Creative writing is a most impractical and decadent course of study! Rhetoric majors only end up working check-out aisles at Wal-Mart! And you, Tainaka-san, _undeclared? _Ridiculous!" She was yelling so loud that Mio could see poor hungover Azusa wincing in the hallway. "Compass you not the foggiest suggestion of a major? Decide! _Decide!_"

"Right now?" Ritsu peeped.

"Yes!" When the drummer's immediate response was not forthcoming, Mrs. Abe made a revolving motion with her hand and barked, "C'mon, c'mon, declare something! To become more green we all cannot do, and still the evening moves forward!"

"Zoological anthropology!"

"What?" Mio laughed.

Her breathing hard and fast with a panic similar to that of a cornered animal, Ritsu looked at her girlfriend and shrugged. It was the first thing that popped into her head. Once she thought about it, she added, "Actually, maybe I'll study music or something."

"Oh, you associate yourself with an orchestra? What do you play?"

"Drums."

"Percussion," Mrs. Abe corrected. She sat up and sighed, "Jeez Louise, but always you percussed your bureau with writing utensils! It was on Parents' Night of your juvenile days that I did to your mother and father recommend that you get evaluated for ADHD."

A look of dawning realization seeped into Ritsu's face. "And do you know, to this day, I'm still getting pamphlets in the mail?"

"You're welcome." Mrs. Abe looked at Mio. "I suppose you've regressed to this scene of yours from eleven years ago to me about your…_condition _confront."

The bassist's coal eyebrows knitted. "Condition?"

"You know...Your..." The old woman gestured at her left hand.

"Oh, that." Mio's eyebrows smoothed, but her mouth tightened. She was wondering if Mrs. Abe still forced lefties to write right-handed when a young couple bustled into the classroom. They looked so prim, perfect, and ordinary that the raven-haired girl thought they walked out of an eHarmony ad.

"Excuse us," the woman said. "Are you Abe-san?"

"Yes." Mrs. Abe folded her liver-spotted hands and sat up. "And you are...?"

"Tadashi's parents." The woman's response was short, sharp, with a strong note of hurt in her voice. She and her combed and shaved husband shoved past Mio and Ritsu to stand directly in front of Mrs. Abe's desk. The woman's lower lip quivered and the man gritted his teeth.

Nothing daunted, the teacher smiled. "Saotome-san is an excellent student. He—"

"Yeah, we're not here to talk about his grades," the man snarled in a nasally tenor voice.

Mrs. Abe blinked, but forced her face and voice to remain pleasant. "I'm sorry. What about, then, is this?"

The woman thrust a sheet of stationary paper at the teacher. Mio winced at the handwriting. It was absolutely horrid, even for a first grader. The woman ground out, "_This _is the letter he tried to write to his grandmother. She's in the hospice unit of Mercy General Hospital with dementia and leukemia!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Mrs. Abe sounded genuinely sad and sympathetic for the couple. Ritsu knew it would be impolite for the teacher to ask, _What do I have to do with this? _but felt it should be asked nonetheless. It was truly grievous to lose one's mother slowly to such diseases, but you don't just barge into your son's primary school and peg it on his teacher.

Mio, however, knew where this was going.

"This letter is illegible! A normal person couldn't read this, let alone a demented old woman!" The paper rattled as the woman shook it furiously. "I told him, write it with your left hand, and he broke down crying and said he couldn't because you forbade it!"

Mrs. Abe held a long, pensive silence, her eyes focused on the paper fluttering inches from her worn face. Mio sighed, thinking about how dedicated this Tadashi must have been. The bassist had only used her right hand in school. She had thought Mrs. Abe was the one who was wrong, not herself, and so she had adamantly refused to reform into a righty. This Tadashi must have believed Mrs. Abe when she told him he was diseased.

"My duty," the teacher said quietly, "is to teach my students to write well."

"Does this look like good handwriting to you?" the man roared. Ritsu had to refrain from giggling; his yelling sounded like Mio's fearful screeching. "This is discrmination! We'll file against you, so we will!" He slammed the paper on her desk, winced for he had hurt his pinky in the process, and minced out of the room with his wife.

"Tell me something," Ritsu said whimsically once the perfect couple had left. "Do you think she can satisfy him in the bedroom? I'm gonna go with 'no.'"

"As rude as they were," Mio murmured, "I have to agree with that man on this: that is _not _good handwriting." Her voice gained not volume so much as confidence when she addressed Mrs. Abe. "Just because it's written with your right hand doesn't automatically mean it's better." The bassist felt bad about the confrontation her former teacher had endured, but she couldn't help lashing out a bit. "You spent three school trimesters trying to pound right-handedness into me! A whole school year of being laughed at, called 'southpaw' and 'sister mantel,' and having everyone sing 'right is right and left is wrong' at me at recess! And for what?" she exclaimed. She felt close to tears as she scrolled through those tumultuous memories. Being in a relationship with a childhood friend compels one to look for their buddy in those memories. Mio glanced appreciatively at Ritsu, realizing the drummer never participated in the singing at recess, or any other lefty teasing for that matter.

"It's all been for nothing, sensei," Mio concluded with a sigh. "My right hand is as useless as it's ever been."

She was pleased to see that Mrs. Abe was speechless for a moment. The sensei sat at her desk, staring at the calendar spread across it without seeing it. She was motionless, unblinking, which Mio and Ritsu found a little unsettling. The bassist was eager for Mrs. Abe's response, expecting her to admit she was wrong and apologize.

What Mio got instead was: "Was it that you abandoned the course of dextromanuelism following your primary year here?"

"Hai," the raven-haired girl admitted.

"So it goes. To transfer your strength and orientation from your sinister half to your dexter half is not something which in the course of a single year can be achieved. It is a life-long process." Mrs. Abe took her pencil in her right hand and jotted something on a post-it note. "And, just like any muscle in your body, so you use it less, so it becomes weaker."

Ritsu narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Abe. Something here was fitting in, scarily slow and fast at the same time. Mio shrank back a little and started to softly inquire something when the drummer shot forward and exclaimed, "Abe-sensei, are you a lefty?"

Mio looked at Mrs. Abe sharply, her silver eyes wide. She had never thought about that.

The old woman hesitated to answer, but that was enough of an answer for the two lovers_. Talk about your self-loathing_, Ritsu thought. She grunted in surprise as Mio seized her by her blazer.

The bassist's eyes were saucer-like. "Ricchan," she hissed, "she was like me and she changed!" Consumed by passionate outrage, she shook her girlfriend. "Why? I don't understand!"

"You know," Mrs. Abe spoke up. Mio released Ritsu and lunged forward to crouch before the desk of her newfound, albeit enigmatic, comrade. "You young people so liberal are...with everything, it seems. But when I was a mite, it was different. Teachers were demanded to teach children to write with their right hands.

"My teacher was not so direct as I was. So she said, 'To write properly, you must hold your pencil in your right hand, like so.' I tried, I really had. So hopeless I thought it was until I realized, 'Another hand I have which probably more useful is.' And so found out I, it was. Thus I was sinistromanuel. So my teacher said, and she used that very word."

Mio's eyes welled up with tears_. She is just like me..._

"There began that project of making myself dextromanuel. For a while I was as Yamoto-san was: ambidextrous. But using my sinister hand I did less and less, and before I knew it, its strength had slipped away from me.

"I felt a sense of accomplishment. But also, it seemed I had forsaken an immense part of my identity—"

"It's a big part of my identity, too! I can't imagine writing with my other hand! Oh, Abe-sensei!" Mio gushed, hooking herself to the old woman's leg. "We're so alike! And I thought you were evil!"

Ritsu dragged Mio off Mrs. Abe, yelling, "Get a grip, Mio! And not on her!" Once she got her girlfriend at a safe distance from the sensei, the drummer queried, "Why do you try to turn lefties into righties if you know you abandoned your identity?"

Mio stared at Mrs. Abe, hungry for an answer from her new mentor. The old woman was like a cultural relic from another era, when left-handedness was forbidden in school. The bassist saw her in a whole new light — an image of perfection.

"If forsake your identity you do, it may be better in the long run." Mrs. Abe focused her beady eyes on Mio. "Akiyama-san endured a surplus amount of grief for reason of existing in this world as a sinistromanuel," she spoke apologetically. "But if she had committed herself to becoming a dextromanuel, saving herself a lifetime of grief she could have done."

The bassist gasped. Could she have stopped it? She was still known as Southpaw, especially in Spanish class where she was also known as Izquierda. At least twice a day someone would stop her writing by asking, "Are you left-handed?" Her affirmative response would be met either with praise or scorn. Could all of that have been prevented?

Ritsu was livid. Her arms came around Mio protectively as she yelled, "She shouldn't have to change herself to make everybody else happy!" Without thinking, she cried, "I love Mio! I love that she's a left-handed crybaby! I wouldn't have her any other way!"

Mio twisted around in the drummer's arms to give her that dewy-eyed look of adoration that Ritsu loved so much. Ritsu returned the unspoken sentiment before the bassist's expression turned to one of fearful caution. Blanching, she muttered, "Uh, Ritsu..."

Realization hit Ritsu like a ton of lead. She jumped away from Mio and gave her a platonic, if not awkward, pat on the shoulder. "I love m-my best friend," she stammered in the most innocent voice she could muster, "and I love her as nothing more."

Ritsu may have been a good liar. But Mrs. Abe had seen what she had seen. Her wrinkled face hardened and she ordered: "Get out."

* * *

><p>"What were you thinking?" Mio demanded incredulously. The soft porchlight of Ritsu's house washed and shadowed her face, revealing its harsh angles. Yui had departed long ago to take AZusa home. A biting wind kicked up, carrying with it a cool, metallic smell. It would rain soon.<p>

"I wasn't thinking," Ritsu sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Mio."

"It's okay." The bassist forgave her immediately, automatically. It was difficult to hold a grudge against someone as sweet and considerate as Ritsu. _I love that she's a left-handed crybaby. _That made Mio's heart melt. _How can she love things about me that I resent?_

Ritsu looked up at Mio, her swimming hazel eyes a mix of affection and anger. "I hate it," growled she, "when people hurt you the way they do."

The bassist chuckled. "I'm fine, Ricchan—"

But Ritsu shook her head fervently. "Abe-sensei had you in the palm of her hand, Mio. If I hadn't stepped in, it would've been first grade all over again: you hating yourself for being left-handed and trying to change!" She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling with rage. Flashbacks played themselves in her eyelids: six-year-old Mio sobbing, "I'm such an idiot! I can't write left-handed and I don't feel right writing right-handed!" Ritsu had hated Mrs. Abe for hurting Mio the first time around, and she wasn't about to let the teacher subject her beloved girlfriend to a second time around.

"Oh, Ritsu," Mio sighed, taking the drummer in her arms. She could feel her trembling before Ritsu decompressed and settled her head on the bassist's chest. In her right ear she could hear the slow, steady thump of Mio's heart. She moved her hands up until her arms were hugging her girlfriend's neck. _She's really...protective, _Mio thought with a smile. _I never knew Ritsu worried about me so much._

"I guess I really lost my temper, huh?' the drummer sighed, drained. She herself was a bit frightened by the way she had acted.

"Yeah," Mio agreed. "That was either the dumbest...or the sweetest thing you've ever done for me."

The bassist pulled away momentarily and they locked eyes, luring one another in with their stares. Mio cupped her hands around Ritsu's face — she'd always loved how soft and chubby it was — and leaned in to kiss her. But the drummer's headband, already loose on her head, was caught in the wild gale. First it knocked against Mio's face, causing knife-like pain to lance and snap through her teeth. Then it was blown all the way across the street.

"I got it," Mio yelped. She started to give chase after the headband, but Ritsu caught her by her sleeve.

"It's okay, Mio." The bassist turned to see her girlfriend grinning at her, her tawny bangs whipped to and fro in the squall. Mio had never seen Ritsu look so carefree without her headband. Her bangs didn't ripple so much as toss about. Her aurum eyes were hidden and revealed in frequent and irregular intervals. "I got a hundred of 'em in my closet, and I gotta hold up my end of the deal, ne?"

Mio's eyes shone as she stared at Ritsu in awe. She couldn't help being bewildered and charmed by the brunette when she wore her bangs down. The look was so...becoming. And cute. Mio smiled, nodded assent, and stepped closer to Ritsu. She pulled the petite drummer closer to her, holding her by her waist, and their mouths came together.

_Jesus, what a kiss, _Ritsu thought, her heart fluttering. It was way more intimate than the last time they kissed. The drummer could feel all of Mio's parts with her own. Her face, her arms, her breasts. The wind blew full-force, mixing Ritsu's brown hair with Mio's raven hair. Even as their lips parted the bassist kept her body close to Ritsu's, preserving their intimacy. The drummer could feel the soft skin of Mio's lips grazing the sensitive skin of her own as she whispered, "I love you, Ricchan."

"And I love you, Mio, so much." Ritsu sighed happily as the bassist eskimo kissed her, running the tip of her nose along the bridge of the brunette's. Ritsu braced herself against Mio's shoulders and bounced up for another kiss, hoping to fully communicate how very deeply she loved the coal-haired girl through that gesture.

"Ritsu?"

At the sound of her mother's voice Ritsu flew back, shoving Mio off her. This was so not the drummer's day: carelessly revealing her relationship with Mio to two people who probably should not know. How was she going to lie and cover up this time?

Mrs. Tainaka stood in the open doorway, a myriad of shadows on her anxious face created by the lights inside the house and the porchlight.

Thinking quick, Ritsu babbled out an incoherent excuse. "Oh so that's what kissing a girl's like thanks for partaking in this experiment with me Mio see you tomorrow bye!" And she darted past her mother inside.

Mio stared blankly ahead of her, chest heaving with panic and arousal. She and Mrs. Tainaka's eyes met briefly. Then Mio frantically bowed, muttered, "Excuse me, Tainaka-san, and ran off into the new rain towards her house.

* * *

><p>AN

...Well, I was taught "ecrives-tu avec la man gauche?" was the right way to say "do you write with your left hand?" in French I when I was a senior, anyway *shrugs* I haven't spoken French since. Can't even remember the alphabet. The Spanish alphabet I can remember, because I took Spanish for all four years of high school. Haven't spoken/written any Spanish since high school either.

My favorite line in this chapter is when Azusa says that Mrs. Abe probably reads the thesaurus in her spare time. I like this because I used to use the thesaurus so much when I wrote (I don't anymore). I would think up the sentence I'd want Mrs. Abe to say, pick out some of the most basic words and look up the most obscure synonyms for them, and then rearrange the sentence so that it was in the passive-progressive tense.


	15. Heart of Gold

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Fifteen  
><strong>

**Heart of Gold**

Aware though Sawako was that the Light Music Club members were practically tearing out their hair with anxiety, she herself couldn't wait for their performance at Hair that night. Mio and Azusa, fretting over tuning and polishing their respective instruments, snapped at the sensei. They had called her insensitive. Sawako had blithely shrugged it off. She couldn't help it. It was a good day. In Advanced Guitar class she just had them watch a Rolling Stones concert. In Intro to Keyboard she had to give a test, which was tedious, but she was pleased with the results: not a D or an F in the lot. She hadn't seen Tokudaiji today, and she was hoping he was out with a substitute filling in. She was happy. And the icing of this great day was her anticipation of tonight's concert. It was nice to have something to look forward to.

Presently she was on her way to homeroom. She had just grabbed the doorknob when Mugi rounded the farthest corner. The ojou's face was ashen and brooding, her dim eyes focused on the floor. Upon seeing Sawako Mugi's face unpinched slightly. She smiled, though the older woman could see her bushy eyebrows were furrowed.

Sawako returned Mugi's smile. "Hey, you," she greeted warmly.

"Hi." The keyboardist's voice was low, leaden with sadness.

The sensei put her hand upon Mugi's head, pushing her flaxen bangs out of her tense face. "What's eating you?"

Mugi leaned her head into Sawako's stroking hand, closing her eyes. She looked completely drained: her stately bearing was reduced to a slouch and her pale face had a grayish tint. "I can't perform in the concert tonight," she proclaimed.

Sawako's hand hesitated, then continued pulling through Mugi's jaune tresses; it seemed to soothe her. Well, now what? _What are we going to do without Mugi-chan? _That question clamored through Sawako's brain, and she shook her head in annoyance. She'd have to answer that question from every Light Music Club member when they heard about this.

The teacher didn't bother asking why. She knew it was because of the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest.

"I'm sorry, Sawa-chan," Mugi said miserably, looking up at her girlfriend. Tears glittered in her eyes, gluing her lower eyelashes into yellow triangles. "I don't know what I could've done…"

"Shh, it's okay." Sawako wished they weren't in school, else she would have taken the keyboardist in her arms and held her until she calmed down. But this was Sakura High School, where both of them were expected to act professional (were any other girl crying, Sawako would have had her remanded to a guidance counselor). Keeping an innocent distance from Mugi, the sensei used her other hand to brush away her tears. "We'll figure something out, I promise."

"I hope so. I'll give it more thought, but I have to make up my mind before the end of school. After band practice I'm taking a train to Tokyo." She withdrew a bit from Sawako. From her pocket she produced a small, pink pass. "I won't be in homeroom today. I have to go to the computer lab and print out something for my Economics class."

"Alright," Sawako nodded. "I won't mark you absent."

The sensei watched her go, noting how Mugi's shoulders returned to their pensively slumped state. The ojou rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. _What should I do? _Sawako wondered. _I promised her I'd figure it out. _Never in her life had Sawako broken a promise, and she didn't intend to ever do so. After all, keeping a promise was what honor and idealism were all about — two hallmarks of the teacher's personality.

"I see you've failed to heed my warning, Sawako-san."

Then there were other teachers who didn't have such fiber.

Sawako turned to face him coldly. "What sort of a person would I be if I subjected myself to everyone's 'warnings,' Tokudaiji-san?"

"You would be a fool," the psych teacher responded smoothly, "because my warning could have saved you your job and your reputation. Now…" He sighed. He was one of those men who kept a stiff upper lip, baring only his bottom row of teeth when he spoke. "Now I guess it's too late."

Sawako faltered momentarily, terrified that Tokudaiji had handed her over to Mrs. Murakami. Once the rational half of her brain was restored, she realized the headmistress would have brought it up when they passed each other five minutes ago. Bouncing back, she retorted, "I know you, Tokudaiji-san. I know everything about you." The second sentence was a gross exaggeration, but she knew he wouldn't call her bluff. "You've got no favor with Noriko-sensei. You're just mad because you've been working here for ten more years than I have without any promotion or advancement. In fact, wasn't it last year," she mused with restrained laughter in her voice, "Noriko-sensei posted you to carry boxes of Pepsi products to stock the vending machines?" Sawako shook her head, enjoying the psych teacher's stung expression more than she should have. "Ten years my senior, and all you've gotten is grunt work. Sour grapes, Tokudaiji-san…Or would you prefer Nagi-wakkadono?"

Tokudaiji's expression turned from one of outrage to fear. That his eyes were blue made them seem wider behind his glasses. His thin arms hung loosely at his sides. _Ha, _Sawako thought, knowing she had won.

"You know very well," he gasped. Then, catching himself, he glared and hissed, "You do not call me by my first name, and you _do not _call me 'wakkadono.' Understood?"

Sawako stared at him, intensely curious about why he suddenly seemed scared. _He really did do something. I wonder what? _Feigning coolness, she readjusted her sleeve on her left arm. "I hardly think you're in any position to dicate terms on me, Nagi-wakkadono, especially after I found out what you did." Tokudaiji Nagi blanched and his orthogonal jaw fell. Resisting temptation to laugh, Sawako breezed past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, wakkadono, I—"

"Matte!" Tokudaiji choked, catching her by her sleeve. Her face an impassive, stony mask, Sawako turned to face him once more.

Tokudaiji's tongue dashed out of his mouth, wetting his chapped lips. "I thought," he whispered, "that you of all people would be able to relate to what I did."

_He fraternized with a student? _Sawako's eyes widened. Then, once again, rationality took over. _What he did was probably worse than what I did with Mugi-chan. Fraternized, indeed. More like exploited. _Drudging up something she had said to an ex-boyfriend, she muttered, "No one can relate to the abhorrent thing you did, Nagi-wakkadono."

His hand dropped from her arm and his chin fell to his chest in defeat. Shaking with a newfound power, Sawako headed into homeroom. _I've got your number, Tokudaiji-san._

* * *

><p>After school the band ran through their setlist. Mio shuffled a bit, contemplating if they should run through it one more time for safe measure. Mugi stared at her keyboard, mentally running through <em>Badinerie.<em>

"Sawako-sensei," Azusa spoke apprehensively, "are you sure this all sounds good for tonight?"

"Just one thing…" The sponsor set down her tea cup and strode over to the band. The kouhai's face drew tight a little at the idea of making a last-minute improvement. "About 'Jaja Uma Way to Go'…It sounds good," Sawako appraised, giving Azusa a double thumbs-up, "but you're a little stiff. Loosen up."

"Loosen up how?"

Sawako huffed. "I don't know…but, you know, concerts are every bit about the visual as they are about the audial. If all the audience wanted was audial glory, they'd listen to your album rather than go see you live."

"Like we have an album," Ritsu muttered.

Yui smiled. "We don't have an album yet."

"Yet?"

Sawako pantomimed playing a guitar: standing with her feet planted a foot and a half apart, her right hand by her hips where the headstock would be. "Look like you love it, you know? Make love to it!"

A virtual shadow fell over Azusa's eyes. "I love my guitar, but I don't love it _that _much."

"Put your hips into it. Make the girls in the audience wish they were your guitar. Look less like I'm-standing-up-here-playing-my-guitar and more like…like…" The sensei's mind scrambled for a comparison that would fit Azusa. She recalled the Rolling Stones concert video she had shown her guitar class. Her face lit up. "Look like Keith Richards!"

The pigtailed girl nearly dropped her pick in shock. "You want me to play my guitar like Keith Richards?"

"No, I want you to snort your dad's ashes like him," Sawako said sarcastically.

Azusa was agog with both excitement and trepidation. She loved the Rolling Stones with a hardcore passion. She had seen them live once, and she knew exactly what Sawako was talking about in terms of Richards's crazy antics. From his chicken walk to his hopping about the stage, Azusa wasn't sure she could emulate his style. She didn't see herself as worthy of that style.

* * *

><p>Sawako left Yui, Mio, Ritsu, and Azusa briefly to accompany Mugi to the train station. The ojou would have loved to stay a bit longer and help them load their instruments and gear on the bus Asumi so kindly ordered for them. But she was cutting it close. She had to get to Tokyo in time to change, do her hair, and get on that stage and play some Bach. The train hadn't yet arrived when the two of them got there, holding hands.<p>

"I think I have something figured out," Mugi sighed. Her jaw, neck, and shoulders felt tense. No matter how she tried, she couldn't relax. "What time's the concert?"

"Afterschool Tea Time has to be on stage at 21:00," Sawako responded.

The keyboardist gnawed her lip, staring at the endless expanse of tracks. "Hmm...Well, I may be a little late...The Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest manages their performances in foursomes. I'm the fourth one in a group, so I'll immediately get my medal. Then I could have one of Father's drivers take me to Hair."

"You should take the train," her girlfriend advised. "You don't know what traffic will be like on the highway."

"The train's faster, too," Mugi realized. She turned her beryl eyes to the ground and tapped her cheek. "I just might make it on time, but I don't know..." She had considered skipping the solo contest. She really had. But it would be such a terrible thing to do to her father. Not only would she be betraying Holt, but she would be leaving him worrying and wondering where she was. Imagining Holt in such a predicament nearly brought Mugi to tears. For ever since Veronique flew the coop, Tsumugi was the only precious thing Holt had left in his life.

"I doubt I'm going to do very well," the keyboardist confessed. "I'll be lucky to take silver."

"You'll do great, I know it," Sawako said enthusiastically and sincerely. "I know you've practiced long and hard for this night, and that's why I think you should definitely go."

Mugi looked up at Sawako tenderly. The sun, beginning its descent into the western horizon, cast its golden rays, dying Mugi's eyes chartreuse and making each curly aurum strand positively glow.

Sawako dropped her chin and gulped. Her honey-colored eyes flicked toward her girlfriend. Ever wary of her emotions, the sensei could never bring herself to express love so poetically. Yet she said, "Everything about you is gold, Mugi-chan. Your grades, your talents...but most of all your heart. You're a gold medal girlfriend, Mugi-chan," she said, facing the ojou confidently. "Hell, you could take platinum in that category...In my heart you do, anyway." She looked away, feeling her warm face throb. That Mugi wasn't saying anything frightened her. She had taken a chance, told her girlfriend how she really felt, and now she was going to be punished.

Mugi swore she was dreaming at first. She couldn't find words to express the jubilation exploding from her heart's constraints, like a flood breaking through a levy. Rather, with a gushing cry, she threw her arms around Sawako's neck and pressed herself against her. "Sawa-chan, you're so sweet," she cooed, nuzzling the sensei's ear. "I never knew you felt that way about me..."

Sawako gagged; Mugi's tenacious crab-like hold had closed off her windpipe. "Not that I'm not getting a warm fuzzy," she gasped, "but I can't breathe..."

"Gomenasai." Tsumugi loosened her hold a bit, and Sawako gasped for air. She ran her hands through her girlfriend's flavicomous hair, staring at the sunset, only seeing flashbacks of Mugi lutzing at the ice rink...Mugi in the forest, the silvery starlight capturing the sorrow in her opalescent eyes as she relived the agony of her parents' divorce.

"Hey." Sawako pulled back and dug through her pocket. "I want you to have something for tonight." She found what she was looking for and pressed it into Mugi's hand. "It'll give you inner strength."

Her eyebrows raised curiously, Mugi opened her hand to see what Sawako had given her. Her eyes unhooded — widened, actually — and she drew in a sharp breath. There it was, a concrete memory of the night they became a couple: the glittering blue hairtie.

"It'll make you look heart-breakingly beautiful, too," the older woman added.

"Thank you so much." Mugi doubted it would make her look as beautiful as Sawako said it would, but she was sure it would give her inner strength.

The ojou giggled. She flashed on that scene in _Spirited Away_, when Yubaba's sister wove the protective, magical hairtie for Chihiro.

There was a rhythmic rumble from afar. The train was coming.

"Knock 'em dead, kiddo," Sawako grinned, winking. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

"It's okay," Mugi insisted, pocketing the elastic. "You're needed in Yokohama." With a hiss, the train stopped and its doors opened. Perching slightly on tip-toe, Mugi kissed Sawako warmly, cupping her face, before disappearing on the train to Tokyo.

Her head still spinning from the kiss, the teacher hurried back to Sakura High School, hoping for the best for Mugi in several ways.

* * *

><p>"Where ya been?" Ritsu demanded as soon as Sawako walked into Music Room 3. "We're all packed up and ready to go!" She craned her neck, peering out the doorway. "Where's Mugi-chan?"<p>

"I'll explain on the bus." Sawako looked about Music Room 3. Everything they needed to take with them to Yokohama was neatly stacked in the center of the room. Ritsu's dissembled drumset stood in the middle of the pile. Surrounding it were the amps, Gitah, Mugi's Triton, Mio's Precision, and Azusa's Mustang, all in their gig bags.

Sawako unzipped Mugi's gig bag and shook her head. "We're supposed to bring the Yamaha to this gig, not Korgy."

"Oh, yeah," Ritsu remembered. Then she grinned and rubbed her palms together. "I nearly forgot about that awesome thing Mugi-chan has to do with it."

Mio commented, "Methinks you're chomping more at the bit for this than she is."

Sawako stooped to pick up an amp. "Right. Drums and amps on the bus first. Then we'll take the other stuff."

Ritsu grabbed the bass drum in similar fashion. "You heard the boss, y'all! Let's roll!"

Strenuous though it was to hump an amp, the Light Music Club members met the task with whole-hearted enthusiasm. Azusa and Yui started out carrying their respective amps out to the bus. By the time the kouhai returned for her guitar she noticed Yui still stumbling along the hallway, her back stiffly bent at an awkward angle, her hands clutching the handle. The senpai winced at the sting that burned betwixt her shoulder blades.

Shaking her head good-naturedly, Azusa relieved Yui of the hefty amp. Sighing, the senpai stood up straight, feeling the pain cool off. Her spine crackled, which felt both painful and wonderful at the same time. Straining from the weight of the amp, Azusa ordered, "Crouch."

Yui gave her a bemused look before complying. Suddenly she could feel some of the amp's weight pressing into her open hands.

"I'm going to let go of the amp," the kouhai grunted, "and you're going to lift it with your legs. Capisce?"

"What does 'capisce' mean — _gyuhh!_" Yui cried out as Azusa started to drop the amp. "Okay! I'll carry it right!"

* * *

><p>Once the gear was loaded the five of them boarded the bus — Yui, Azusa, and Mio with their gig bags, and Sawako with Mugi's — which promptly left for Yokohama. It was a nice bus with plush seats — none of the hard, leather sort — that faced each other. Ritsu and Mio sat next to each other whilst Sawako, Yui, and Azusa occupied the seats facing them. The drummer rattled her sticks against the armrest, playing the rhythm of 'Girly Storm Shissou Stick' (which, sadly, she couldn't perform live), and watched the unremarkable road pass by. There was an obvious, though not necessarily bad, issue here that needed confronting.<p>

"Sawa-chan-sensei. Why is your cousin putting us up in such high style?"

Sawako looked up from the window, an eyebrow raised. "Eh? Well, we have to get our equipment to Hair somehow. And none o' y'all drive, and I don't have me a car."

"That's logical, but…" Ritsu waved a stick, gesturing round the bus. "How can Asumi-san afford this? Not to be presumptuous, but she didn't strike me as very…well-off."

"That's something to chew on…" Sawako knew what Ritsu was talking about. Asumi was hardly wealthy. On the contrary, the bartender was dirt poor. She was a woman who stole rolls of toilet paper from public restrooms to save money (the paper doubled as coffee filters). _I'll have to ask her about that, _thought Sawako, leaning an arm on the armrest.

Azusa caught Yui giggling into her hand and inquired, "What's so funny?"

"Your cheeks are vibrating, Azu-nyan," the elder guitarist laughed.

On her own accord, the kouhai glanced at her reflection in the window. Dim it was, but she noticed how her face rippled in tandem with the bus engine's humming. She clapped her small hands to her cheeks and snapped, "Yours do, too, senpai!"

Still giggling, Yui touched her face. "Yeah, they do!"

"So do mine," affirmed Ritsu.

They looked at Mio. The flesh on the bassist's angular face neither shimmered nor rippled.

"You guys suck!" she snapped. "So my cheeks don't freakin' vibrate!"

The conversation lulled a bit as they got on the highway. Not liking the silence, Ritsu initiated a couple hand-clapping games. They started with Big Booty, which had to stop after Yui and the drummer kept passing the big booty back and forth to each other. Then they played Concentration; that fell apart after everyone questioned the legitimacy of certain words.

"Garnet doesn't count," Mio insisted. They were naming colors. "It's a gemstone."

"It's a color," said Yui, who had named garnet in the first place. She gestured at Azusa. "Like Azu-nyan's eyes. They're garnet."

"They're not garnet. They're copper."

There ensued an argument about what color Azusa's eyes were, and Concentration was forgotten. Despite Azusa pointing out that her birth certificate legally stated that her eyes were "red," the dispute carried on. Sawako, who was trying to sleep, rather loudly and forcefully closed the debate. Its outcome remains uncertain.

"So why isn't Mugi-chan here?" Ritsu asked.

"She's going to be a little late," Sawako replied soberly. "She's performing in the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest, and then she's coming to Yokohama."

Mio sat up. "Will she come on time for us to go on stage?"

The teacher shrugged. "At most, she might come on stage a few minutes late." She held out her hands plaintively. "If that happens, you must keep the audience entertained until she gets there. Whatever it takes. Banter, panty shots, strip-teases, naked pillow fights, whatever." She paused reflectively, ignorant of the band's horrified expressions. _There was something else I had to tell them…? _"Oh yeah. And you won't be performing with New Order."

"What?" Azusa exclaimed. The other band members demanded to know more. Fuming with anger and disappointment, the kouhai inquired, "Sawako-sensei, was this all a ruse to get us to perform for your lecherous cousin?"

"No. I assure you, it's not. New Order as we know it is done for. Their lead singer is in a coma."

"So who are we opening for?" asked Ritsu.

"A fairly local band on the rise," Sawako answered. She paused, distracted by the bridge the bus was crossing (she would never admit it, but crossing bridges made her nervous). Once the bus was back on the road, she continued explaining. "Their guitarist is from Kyoto, their drummer from Saitima, their bassist from Osaka…Their keyboardist is actually from where y'all live."

An intriguing fun-fact, but Mio sincerely doubted she would know the keyboardist. Their hometown wasn't exactly a bustling city, but it wasn't a close-knit community either.

"They call themselves Terror Firma."

"Sounds like a heavy metal band," Ritsu said uncertainly.

"It does…" Sawako's brown eyes got a faraway, dreamy stare, exuding an aura of I Love That Band Name. Once she snapped out of it, she added, "Though I'm actually not sure what kind of music they play."

The bus rumbled down the highway at full speed, as if pulled by the red thread of destiny, taking the band to their fated performance.


	16. Chibi!

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Sixteen  
><strong>

**Chibi!**

It was 19:30, and Kobucha Street was not just alive, but _roaring _with Yoko Uni's students kicking off a great weekend. Bar crawling, party hopping, movies, concerts, dates. One would never long for excitement on Kobucha Street. For some three countrymice, it was too much excitement.

Nodoka coughed into her sleeve, overwhelmed by the smudgy smoke that tarred across the darkening sky. Ui cried out in alarm as two rowdy frat guys, both with long greasy hair, both with smudged glasses, shoved past screaming, "Alpha Segma Segma!" Jun quietly raised an eyebrow at the sketchy bookstore with its sundry erotic novels displayed in the window.

"Let's hope the fine people at Hair don't smoke as much," Nodoka gagged. "Where _is _Hair, anyway?"

"Oneechan said it was on Kobucha…"

"She did a not-so-great job giving directions. But I guess that's just like her."

Jun sighed, not really minding the situation. True, the smoke stung her throat (and it didn't smell like the sort that came out of tobacco cigarettes). Yes, the frat guys were creeps and the sorority girls were bitches. But wandering about the immense street didn't bother the pigtailed girl in the least. It reminded her of when she and Ui roamed the avenues of Harajuku, looking for a place to shop, but it turned out to be a heart-to-heart. The streets of Harajuku were just as crowded as the streets of Yokohama, but it seemed like it was just the two of them. So the aimlessness was fine, just as long as they could stay on the streets together.

Jun looked up from the windows, right at the neon sign of Hair. _Man, talk about luck. _Smiling, she stopped Ui by hooking her hand about the crook of her arm.

"Thank heaven," Nodoka sighed.

"You found it, Jun-chan! Way to go!" Ui cheered.

Jun giggled, modestly waving off the praise. Just seeing the exuberant, relieved look on Ui's face was thanks enough. She seemed happier these days. Jun never heard her once complain about Yui and Azusa today. _She may have moved on._

* * *

><p>The backstage area in Hair was large, though not glamorous. It was lit by unflattering fluorescent ceiling lights and consisted of two old couches, a coffee table, and a stained rug. Some potted plants, surprisingly vibrant, accented the corners. There was a full-length mirror propped up against the undecorated walls, plus a bathroom.<p>

"Make yourselves at home," Asumi said brightly. Then she added with a wink, "Just don't make yourselves _too _at home. Would you like something to drink?"

"NO!" The reply was loud, instantaneous, and simultaneous from the four band members. Sawako requested a White Russian. Asumi departed to relay the order to Setsuna, leaving her cousin to silently pray that the samurai didn't put too much Kahlua in it.

Azusa wrinkled her nose as she lightly, daintily seated herself on a couch armrest. "Who would want to make themselves 'too at home' here?"

"Hey." Sawako wagged a finger at the kouhai. "I spent many a night here right after I graduated college."

Ritsu snickered. "Would it have to do with your lack of a boyfriend?"

Sawako glowered at the drummer, wishing she had Mugi here to back her up, never mind that what Ritsu said was true. It more had to do with a very recent lack of a boyfriend. Right after a breakup she would go to Hair, drink away the pain, and get really loud. She would scream, cry, curse, and beg some higher power, and pound the coffee table. Eventually Asumi would drag herself down from her apartment above the bar to yell at Sawako to shut up. She was twice as crabby if she was having a girl over.

A frightened shriek sounding from behind the couch yanked Sawako from her reflective state. The scream startled Azusa so badly she visibly jumped on the armrest. Ritsu, full of concern, dashed to the back of the couch, where she found the horribly shaken Mio. Despite the blood screeching through her veins at light speed, the bassist was as white as a ghost. Her right hand gingerly grasped a steely dan.

"I think…" Waterfall tears flooded from her saucer eyes, and her voice was an octave higher from terror. "I think I found out…how people make themselves too at home here…"

"Oh, for goodness's sake." Tutting, Sawako took it from Mio and threw it away. "If you're scared of a harmless little dildo, you are not ready to be a lesbian."

Ritsu crouched behind Mio and brought her arms around her girlfriend. The bassist was shaking so violently her teeth clicked. The drummer nuzzled her cheek and murmured, "It's okay, Mio. I'm here. It's all over now." Ritsu was relieved to feel Mio's shoulders relaxing, see the color ebbing back into her face.

Yui blinked her eyes wide in fascination. She knelt before the coffee table, her arms rested upon its top. Right in front of her was a tall glass jar full of red- and blue-colored candy drops. They reminded her of when she was little, when she and Ui got bagfuls of Warhead candies in their Christmas stockings. _When exactly did they stop making those? Or do they still make them? _she wondered dimly. Then she thought, _I bet these are delicious! _She unscrewed the lid and selected a blue drop.

"Say 'ah,' Azu-nyan," Yui sang, hovering the drop a mere inch from the kouhai's mouth.

Azusa pursed her lips as she considered the candy. Then, parting them tentatively and sliding out her tongue, she said, "Ahh," and let her girlfriend place the azure drop upon it.

The drop sent a jolt of flavor through Azusa's mouth, making her jaw tingle. It was a sweet sapor which she couldn't otherwise describe — not at all unlike the common 'mystery flavor' found in various candies. It was the briefest sensation before the drop melted away. Then…_it _happened.

Yui heard a soft _POM! _and when she looked at Azusa she saw a little girl of maybe five years standing there with the Sakura uniform draped upon her tiny body. This five-year-old had a pair of furry cat ears jutting from under her black hair, which was tied into medium-length pigtails. She blinked her slanted mahogany eyes in confusion and flicked her tail — black-furred with a white tip — thoughtfully.

"Where's Azu-nyan?" Yui asked.

"Right here." The little girl flinched in surprise at her voice. It was high-pitched, nasally: a five-year-old's voice. She lifted her hand, finding out she had to hitch up the super-long blazer sleeve to see it. It was pudgy. Then it dawned on her. Azusa squeaked, "What the…? I'm _little!_"

Yui gasped. It _was _Azusa. The pigtails, the eyes, most of all the outraged expression. Just eleven years younger. The senpai's eyes swam and she smiled hugely. Wondering how anybody could resist hugging Azusa, Yui scooped her up.

"Azu-nyan! Just when I thought you couldn't get any cuter!"

Chibi Azusa squeezed her eyes shut as the (now much) older girl pressed her face against the kouhai's. Azusa flattened her cat-ears against her head and her tail whipped about furiously. Flailing her hands, she protested, "Arahh! Put me down!"

"Ohh!" Yui cooed. "You're too cute, Azu-nyan! I wish you could look like this all the time!"

Ritsu sweat-dropped. "You realize that means you would be dating a little kid…"

Mio narrowed her eyes. "That face was so not made for cuddling a five-year-old…" But she eyed li'l Azusa curiously, wondering out loud, "How did Azusa spontaneously turn into a child anyway?"

"I'm not sure," the drummer muttered, rubbing her chin. The two of them watched, lost in thought, as Azusa struggled to break free of Yui's grasp. She tried thrashing and kicking, though to no avail. Eventually the kouhai had to resort to a maneuver she used as a little kid — particularly at the dentist. She bit Yui. Crying out in shock, the senpai released her. "I don't like this place," Ritsu murmured. "It's got way too much of the supernatural going on." She and Mio nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard another _POM! _They turned slowly to find…

Sawako's clothes in a sunken pile on the wood floor. From under them emerged who they quickly realized was the seven-year-old version of their teacher. Sawako blinked and squinted her round, brown eyes — for at the age of seven her glasses prescription was vastly different. She piped up in a surprising pipsqueak voice, "What the hell? I ate one of those drops, and now everything suddenly looks bigger!"

Ritsu giggled at the sound of a little kid using profanity and at Sawako herself. "Were your ears really that big when you were little?"

"They're not big!" Sawako squawked, bringing her hair about her ears. "My head was just smaller back then!"

"Your hair totally screams 80s! What year were you born?"

Mio considered the open candy jar, murmuring, "So these drops make you younger…"

The door scraped open then to admit Sakurazaki Setsuna bearing Sawako's drink. Behind the samurai trailed Yamanaka Asumi pulling a rack of clothes specially made by the bartender for the concert. Asumi bumped into Setsuna when she stopped dead in her tracks. Her dark, slanted eyes took in everything at the tiniest glance — the open jar and the child versions of Azusa and Sawako — and she immediately knew what happened.

"Ohh, this is all my fault!" Setsuna exclaimed.

"Chill out. It's not your fault." Asumi placed a hand on the samurai's shuddering shoulder. The gesture seemed reassuring, but it was actually more restraining: Asumi didn't want Setsuna dropping the White Russian. "I was the one who left the jar out."

"But I was the one who should've thought to put it away!" Setsuna fussed. How could she explain this one without revealing the existence of magic?

"Hey." Setsuna suddenly found herself confronted by chibi Sawako, circa 1990. The little teacher pointed at the White Russian. "Hand it over."

The samurai blanched.

Sawako made beckoning motions and snapped her fingers. "C'mon, c'mon. I've been seven years old for three minutes now, and it's killing me. I need a big ol' drink."

Setsuna hesitated. It just seemed wrong to give a little kid a drink. It went against the samurai's fiber. Her jet eyes flicked at the open jar which Mio and Ritsu were deliberating. Having figured out that blue drops made a person younger, the bassist was deducing that red drops made one older. Setsuna smiled. _There's the solution, though it's a little touch-and-go…_ "Take a red drop," she ordered Sawako.

The teacher snorted. "Riiight. I'm just dying to take another one of those."

"It'll make you older."

"_Je refuse._"

Asumi groaned in annoyance and turned her hazel eyes to the ceiling. Before confronting her cousin, she pushed her clothing collection to a corner near the bathroom. Mio winced at the risqué bikini on one hanger, hoping to every Kami that it wasn't for her.

"Sawa-neesan." The bartender pulled out a fighting move her cousin made on her when they were little: she grasped Sawako's little head with her hand, holding her in place. Asumi's eyes were suddenly frightening. "Take the red drop, or I'll clean your clock!"

The sensei vainly kicked and flailed. She was used to being older than everybody, getting power and respect for her age. Now the reverse in roles left her terror-stricken. If Setsuna was right, if the red candy would make her older and get back that respect, then she would do it.

In the background Setsuna watched the spat with saucer eyes, clutching the glass with both hands. "Asumi-san, isn't that a bit rough for a child…?"

* * *

><p>Mugi was having some backstage stress of her own. No sooner had she set foot in the lobby of Katsuhiko Theatre than she was met with chaos in the form of her father.<p>

"Tsumugi! Where were you?" he demanded the instant she walked in. "You had me worried!"

The blonde girl didn't even have time to check her watch to see how late she had run. Holt was already pushing her toward the sign-in desk. She could assume by previous experiences that she had run a mere minute late. Well, time _was _money, and she knew how Holt felt about money.

Her father jumped about anxiously whilst Mugi signed her name. It surprised her how much energy he could have at the age of sixty-two.

"Please hurry up," he wheedled with a pitiful whine in his tenor voice. The look on his face was akin to hers when she yelled at the butler over the phone — was it Mikhel? or maybe Stuart? — for setting the yacht out at the villa after she had specifically told him not to. She grimaced. _Golly, did that butler find me as annoying as I'm finding Father right now?_

As soon as she completed the 'buki' character in her last name, Holt seized her by her sleeve and towed her over a great distance to the backstage area. It was nowhere near as homely and casual as Hair's backstage, but Tsumugi couldn't know this of course. The second competitor in the foursome, a girl named Kitazawa Kimiko, was on stage, playing a ragtime piano tune Mugi recognized as _The Entertainer. _Presently everybody was fussing over the third competitor, a small, kittenish boy named Miyao Katsuichi. Between hearing Kimiko's amateur rendition of _The Entertainer _and seeing Katuichi's vacillating, anemic face, Mugi couldn't help but feel overconfident. Still, it was polite to greet her competition and wish him luck.

"Hello," she said brightly. "I'm Kotobuki Tsumugi."

His full lips thinned as he smiled. "I know. You're pretty famous. Everybody's looking forward to your performance." There were innumerable amounts of solo contests across Japan, but only those from the most well-established families could come to Tokyo. Performers and competitors bore names such as Kotobuki, Tokudaiji, Katayanagi, Yamoto, Yukihiro, Hanazono, Rokujou, Himemiya, to name but a few. "I'm Katsuichi. Miyao Katsuichi."

"Nice to meet you," Mugi smiled.

Katsuichi pushed back some brune licks of hair that had fallen into his teal eyes. "So, what piece are you doing?"

"_Badinerie_."

"Mm. Nice choice."

_Right. Nice choice for Father. _"What are you doing, Katsu-kun?"

"_L'Arlesienne Suite._"

"The entire thing?" Mugi yelped. Katsuichi seemed to find the ojou's exuberance a bit off-putting, and she backed off with an apology. Then he responded, "Just the prelude."

_Which is level one beginner's music. _Mugi opened her mouth to wish Katsuichi luck when she was seized from behind by the collar. Holt dragged her away, whispering urgently, "You've no time to flirt and gossip! You have to get ready!"

The blonde girl giggled. _That was hardly flirtation. _It reminded her of the time she visited Veronique last year and her mother had said, "Your father doesn't know what love is." While Mugi didn't disagree with her mother, she wanted to point out that if Holt didn't know what love was , then Veronique certainly didn't either. Maybe nobody knew what love was.

Holt stopped before the longest rack of clothes Mugi had ever seen. The old man madly scrolled through the outfits, explaining in a rushed mutter, "I sent Wilhem-san out to buy two hundred outfits for this occasion. One of them has to be right for you!"

Turning her head back and forth, the ojou took in the largest wardrobe ever with saucer eyes. _Two hundred! Isn't that a bit much…?_

"Try this on!" Holt thrust something at her and pushed her toward the dressing room. Once she was locked away in the privacy of the room, Mugi got a chance to see what her father had chosen: a periwinkle blouse and a knee-length black skirt. It wasn't the sort of thing the keyboardist would ever wear, but that wasn't of importance. It was all ultimately Holt's decision. He had entered her into the solo contest. He had chosen the music. And he would choose her attire. Mugi felt a depressing sense of subservience. Regardless, she shed her uniform and put on the outfit. In the full-length mirror Tsumugi didn't see herself but a matronly-looking blonde girl who stared uncertainly at her. Bending down, she retrieved _it _from her blazer pocket. The hairtie.

Mugi smiled at her reflection, with her ponytail held up by the sparkling hairtie. The one the ojou removed from her hair just before Sawako kissed her. That kiss and every kiss they shared after that night brought Mugi more happiness than she ever thought possible. She placed her hands upon her blushing face and sighed, "Sawa-chan…" Just saying her name brought the keyboardist happiness. So Holt could pick the contest, the music, and the outfit. But Mugi had to wear the hairtie. She wouldn't budge on that.

Holt wrinkled his delicate nose upon seeing his daughter, and Mugi immediately knew this outfit hadn't made the cut. Her father grimaced, "Ugh, no…Bible seller, much? Especially the ponytail. Hair down, I think."

Struggling to keep her face resolute, Mugi firmly uttered one word: "No."

Holt blinked, and his blue eyes unhooded. There was a word he was unused to hearing. "No?" he echoed, as though it was a new, foreign word he was trying out. "No?"

"No," Mugi repeated.

For a moment Holt appeared ready to reprimand her, and the blonde girl braced herself. Then he sighed, shook his head, and returned to rummaging through the wardrobe, muttering something about girls and their hair.

The next piece he chose was a knee-length silky turquoise dress. That one made too much noise when Mugi walked. Next was a sapphiric dress with an open back and a loose fit around the legs. Too blue! Then came an out-of-season yellow sun dress that draped over Mugi's frame. That one "looked better on the hanger." Then there was a white dress that wrapped around the neck, came in layers to the knees, and had a loud triangle-and-square pattern. That one…

"You have to admit, ojousama, that Holt-dono was right this time," said Wilhem. "You _do _look like Judy Jetson."

The piece that earned Mr. Kotobuki's hard-won approval was a little black dress. It fit Tsumugi's form snugly, though not in a gross, revealing way. It was open back and came down to her knees. And Mugi liked it, too. It was simple but magnificent.

"Now about your hair," Holt murmured, and the blonde girl sighed heavily. "I know you're insistent on leaving it up, but I think this…" He played a bit with her ponytail, combing his long fingers through her aurum rivulets. "…should be a bun."

Without saying anything, Tsumugi looked at her father over her shoulder. She looked drained. Frown lines had formed from her nose to the corners of her mouth. Her azure eyes were pleading.

"A bun would be much more elegant," he added.

"Will I get to wear this elastic?" she implored.

"Of course," he granted, confused.

With some help from Denis, a butler, Mugi transformed her ponytail into a classy bun. She had to agree, this looked significantly better. How uncanny it was that she and Holt had the same taste in fashion. All she thought she had gotten from him was a pair of hirsute eyebrows.

"Excellent timing!" Holt appraised once she reemerged with her hair in a bun. "Miyao-san's nearly done, so that means you're next! Here, put these on!" He threw a pair of black patent leather heels at her, which she barely caught. Her heart thundered out of nervousness as she struggled to put them on. Goaded by her father, she stumbled on stage as fast as the heels would allow.

Her footsteps exploded in her ears as she made her way to the microphone, the score clutched in both hands. It was hot on stage, swelteringly so, and the smell of her competitors' sweat pervaded up to the smooth, arched ceiling. Already Mugi could feel herself contributing some of her own sudor. The only light in the theatre was projected toward the stage, making the audience invisible in the blackness. That was relaxing, sort of. Imagining that the indifferent silence was actually one of hushed anticipation, Mugi stepped up to the mic.

"Good evening." Someone once told her that her voice was well-suited to mics. "My name is Kotobuki Tsumugi, and I will be performing _Badinerie _by Johann Sebastian Bach."

The silence stretched out. Maybe they were eagerly awaiting the ojou's performance.

Walking from the mic to the grand piano felt like a long journey. Mugi swept her gaze along the ivory and ebony keys. _Badinerie _may have been challenging to learn, but she didn't love the piano any less. And she practiced long and hard for this night. That was what Sawako said.

So it was decided. Mugi would win gold with the power of love: her love for the piano and for Sawako. She set her fingers to the necessary keys, opened her heart, and played.

* * *

><p>AN

Holt was based off my grandfather. JSYK.


	17. Show Time!

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Seventeen  
><strong>

**Show Time!**

Meanwhile in Yokohama, some four girls were even less pleased by the wardrobe situation. After she and Setsuna rectified the candy predicament, Asumi unleashed her collection of clothes and costumes on Afterschool Tea Time. Each and every costume was designed with an explicit theme that suited each girl and the audience's taste. Azusa shivered, expecting something that would make her stomach turn. But the costume, fortunately, wasn't very revealing, and it compassed a motif the kouhai was only too familiar with: a sailor-suited cat girl.

"Reminds me a bit of my middle school uniform," she commented. The sailor shirt was blue with a white collar and a red tie. The skirt was knee-length and the same royal blue as the shirt. In addition to that she wore a black headband with cat ears and a fake black tail pinned to her skirt.

Yui's costume, like Azusa's, had a school theme as well: a gym uniform. It was a white baggy shirt with the elder guitarist's name on it, plus a pair of blue skin-tight bloomers.

"This shows off your great legs, aneesan," Asumi grinned, giving Yui a thumbs-up and a wink.

"K-kitsune…?" Ritsu stuttered, checking herself out in the mirror. Her costume was a tight white strapless top that worked up as much cleavage as the drummer had, a mini-skirt, a tiara with a red cross, and fox ears and a tail. "What about me screams nurse?"

"It suits you, Ritsu-neesan."

"It suits me like a hole in the head."

Mio nearly fainted when she was presented with her costume: the bikini. "I am not going to wear this!"

"Aww, c'mon, what's wrong with this?" Asumi queried, holding up the bikini. The bottom was more or less a spandex thong. "Inspiration for this look came from a hentai doujin!"

"Is that supposed to convince me to wear it?" With a huff, Mio turned away, arms crossed angrily.

"Alright, we'll put it to a vote," Asumi decided. "Who thinks Mio-neesan should wear the bikini?" Grinning in anticipation of a great show of hands, the bartender eagerly threw hers up. Her face fell when she saw absolutely no one raise her hand. Mio fumed in the corner whilst Ritsu tried to placate her. Azusa stared sympathetically at Mio. Yui tugged at her bloomers, trying to make them reach her thighs. Sawako stared at her empty glass. "Sawako, not even you think Mio-neesan should wear this?"

"It's too much," the sensei stated simply.

"Oh, it is not. I've designed much more salacious stuff and you know it."

"And I'm glad you spared Mio-chan and the rest of them from the leather pad-lock boob gag…"

Mio's blood chilled, and she moaned in terror, crouching on the floor. "I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that…"

"…but that still doesn't make the bikini too extreme," Sawako continued. "Ricchan, Yui-chan, Azusa-chan — all their costumes are merely suggestive. Mio-chan's costume is _all _about sex, and it borders on hoochy." The teacher took the bikini and waved it in front of her cousin's face. "I wouldn't wear this, and I doubt you would either, Asu-nee. No self-respecting woman would want to be caught dead in this."

Asumi's topaz eyes followed the bikini waving in front of her. Then she relaxed her stance and sighed, "I suppose you're right, Sawa-neesan. I've always respected your opinion."

Mio's shoulders rose as she breathed a huge sigh of relief. She looked at Sawako gratefully. Who would've thought that the sensei would prevent her the very same public humiliation she had thrown the bassist into in past situations?

"So what should she wear?" Asumi asked.

"My uniform," was Mio's immediate response.

The bartender opened her mouth, ready to nix this suggestion, but she reconsidered. She gave the Sakura uniform a thorough survey. It had the potential to be sexy. "Okay," she nodded. "You can wear your uniform. _But,_" she added once Mio's face lit up, "we have to edit it a little." Stepping up to the raven-haired girl, Asumi made her edits.

"On second thought, I'd rather have a costume…" The bartender had removed Mio's blazer, loosened her tie, and unbuttoned her shirt. It was more revealing, in its own way, than the bikini (Mio didn't want the audience to see her bra).

"Mio-chan looks great in a maid uniform," Yui supplied.

Asumi brightened. "I have one upstairs in my apartment. Excuse me while I get it…" She bobbed a quick bow and turned to leave. However, at the door she was met by two girls. One of them was tall and carried a guitar gig bag. The other was short and carried a keyboard gig bag.

"Asumi-han," the tall girl spoke up. "About these costumes…They's a li'l…" Her long brown hair was tied into a ponytail. She wore round, thin-framed glasses over her sharp ocean-blue eyes. The outfit Asumi designed for her was a red and black bustier with white frills that barely contained her great breasts.

The small girl was garbed in a habit, like the sort nuns wear, but the end of it barely came down to mid-thigh. "This is a little short," the keyboardist murmured, her voice a quiet alto hush.

Ritsu giggled and nudged Mio. "Their guitarist says 'han,'" she whispered. "She is definitely from Kyoto."

But Mio hadn't noticed the guitarist. Her attention was focused on the keyboardist. Sawako had said this girl hailed from their hometown. Mio just wanted to see if she could recognize her. She couldn't see the color or style of her hair because of the habit, but Mio could see she had hooded green eyes.

Presently the keyboardist had her attention focused on the guitarist, whom she was obviously very close to, as one could tell by the way they looked at each other and held hands. The guitarist was suggesting something for their show.

The keyboardist nodded approvingly. "That's a gem of an idea, Hitomi. I'll write it down." She produced from a pocket in her habit a little notebook and a pencil. As she started to jot down Hitomi's idea Mio noticed that she was left-handed. Then the keyboardist winced and hissed, "My carpal tunnel's acting up…" With an exasperated sigh, she switched the pencil to her right hand and continued writing.

Mio's silver eyes snapped open wide. Suddenly the keyboardist's face was very familiar. _She's ambidextrous!_

* * *

><p>Mugi hissed through her teeth as the straps of her shoes cut into her Achilles tendons. It was 20:50 and the ojou was forced to stagger through Yokohama by her heels and the pencil cut of her dress. Her left arm swung madly, towed by the weight of the gold medal she had won. Despite it being November, the temperature a biting thirty-three degrees, Mugi's exigence and her hot Kotobuki blood kept her warm.<p>

She stumbled, nearly falling, as the heel of her right shoe missed the curb. Her ankle was sore. She would have blisters on both her Achilles tendons. Groaning with worry, Tsumugi removed her shoes and dashed barefoot up Kobucha Street.

Her mind flashed back half an hour ago, when the results of her foursome were announced. The first competitor took silver. Kitazawa Kimiko took bronze. Miyao Katsuichi took gold. So had she, Kotobuki Tsumugi. There was no such moment in which the ojou felt more pride, a greater sense of finality, than when the gold emblem appeared next to her photo on the large screen. _I've never seen Father so excited. _Her normally quiet father actually cheered; he even punched the air with victory, clapping his hands over his head, his blue eyes crinkled in a smile. He was so happy he didn't mind that Mugi had to immediately leave.

The keyboardist found it reassuring when she passed the Yoko Uni Bookstore on Kobucha and Ujicha. This was a landmark of hers, a sign that Hair was near. By checking her watch, though, she saw it was 21:00 on the dot. Mugi half-moaned, half-sighed, putting on an extra burst of speed, scraping her bare soles on the sidewalk. _I've let my band down, _she thought hopelessly. _What kind of a keyboard player am I?_

She saw the green, blue, and red neon sign of Hair, and Mugi's feet grew wings. She was Mercury, catalyzing and barreling toward the bar. At the entrance she was met by a bouncer who demanded to see some ID. Grateful that Yokohama bars admitted eighteen-year-olds, Mugi showed the bounce-girl her prefecture ID.

If Hair was slightly dark in the daytime, at night it was almost pitch-black. The only light came from the bar, where several girls were clustered and Setsuna and Konoka flurried about busily. There was an abundance of light from the stage. Mugi's heart sank when she saw her four best friends up there, trying their hardest to keep the fervent audience at bay. _I should be up there._

"Excuse me!" she cried. She tried to make her way to the front, closer to the stage, but the immense crowd blocked her way. "Excuse me!" she tried again, but no one even heard her. _I'm going to have to be a bit impertinent, _Mugi thought desperately. As she shoved closer towards the front, she could hear Yui and Mio trying to entertain the audience in her absence. The blonde girl did not know how long they had been up there, but she could guess by the banter they made (Mio was commenting about how small the stage was).

"Mio-chan!" Mugi exclaimed, now at the stage's edge. "Mio-chaaan!"

The bassist's slate eyes happened upon her, and her face broke out into a wide grin of relief. "Oh," she sighed, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes." She and Yui crouched, hands extended, to help the keyboardist on stage. "Alright, guys, now we can get this show on the road!" The bassist's proclamation was met by a swell of applause. Mugi took note of how her bandmates were dressed. She couldn't help but feel a little out of place.

The keyboardist stared in confusion at the Yamaha MOTIF that greeted her on the stand. Then she chuckled and slapped her forehead. In the heat of stress over the solo contest, she had forgotten that her Korg would not be performing with her tonight. She dearly hoped the sounds of the MOTIF would be similar enough to the sounds on her Triton.

_What's the opening song? _she mouthed at Ritsu.

The drummer pounded the right side of her chest, waving her other hand to signify an explosion.

_Heart Goes Boom! _Mugi knew. She tentatively set the Yamaha to the "SYNTH-SFX" tone.

Mio's right hand moved expertly about the frets of her Precision as she played the bouncing bass line. And, just as it should happen, the other instruments came in with a blasting upbeat on the snare from Ritsu. The bassist could see girls dancing. She saw a smiling girl whisper something to her date, her eyes still on the stage. Mio was sure the girl was saying something along the lines of "They're good" or "I love them already." Her stage fright eased, making her relax her posture, the rollicking music just flowing whilst she sang, "A blushing flower...A singing bird..."

* * *

><p>Hair was the best-known lesbian bar, and its customers came from all walks of life. The prospect of seeing not one, but two bands of cute high school girls made quite the turn-out.<p>

Towards the center-left of the crowd stood a medium-heighted girl with lilac-colored hair styled into pigtails and sharp blue eyes. Beside her, her date, a short girl with blue hair cascading down her back and hooded green eyes, craned her neck, struggling to see the band over the heads of the girls in front of her.

"Would you like to move closer?" the purple-haired girl, Kagami, offered.

The blunette, Konata, shook her head. "We don't have to do that." The crowd was feisty, and there were other solutions. She tried jumping up and down, but that only allowed her the briefest glances of the opening band, and it exhausted her.

"Darn it," Konata gasped. "This is worse than the time I made a reference to Haruhi Suzimiya!"

"You mean like a minute ago?" Kagami grinned. "Are you sure you don't want to go closer to the stage?"

"No. I got an idea!" With a _PING! _a lightbulb flashed over Konata's head. Without warning Kagami or begging her permission, the otaku clambered up the tsundere's back to sit upon her shoulders.

"Oh, yeah," Konata nodded, giving her signature cat-like grin. "I can totally see the band now."

"I can't," Kagami groaned, her head dipped so low that her chin touched her chest.

Konata hummed a bit as she surveyed the opening band. Her gaze fell upon Azusa, and her emeraldescent eyes lit up. "Check out that twin-tailed guitarist! Tsundere to the max!"

"How can you be sure?"

Simpering, the otaku dipped her head so her upside-down face filled Kagami's vision. "It's like I always say, Kagamin: 'All tsundere girls—'"

"'…must have pigtails,'" the lilac-haired girl finished with a smile. Her hands were clutching Konata's legs to keep her from falling. Now Kagami extended her right hand to bring her girlfriend's head in closer. Their lips met, upside-down, in a tender, warm kiss. Balancing herself, Konata kissed Kagami again, and again. The tsundere hummed amorously as the strain in her neck melted away with each passionate kiss. _If Konata's not jumping on my shoulders and spouting otaku-ish blabber, then I suppose I wouldn't be dating her, would I? _When she pulled back, Kagami smirked, "I got a motto of my own: 'All otaku girls must be good kissers.'"

Konata snickered and retorted, "'All tsundere girls must be amazing in bed.'"

The pigtailed girl croaked in alarm, a rosy blush suddenly blossoming in her face. She started so hard that she nearly dropped Konata. Keeping a tight grip on her legs, she growled, "I'm done," and the cerulean-haired girl was back to checking out the band.

"That bass player looks like Komachi Tsugumi from Ever17," she commented, "and I'm getting a serious Haruhi vibe from that drummer."

"I'm getting a serious backache…"

The azure-haired otaku slid off Kagami's back. Sighing with relief, the tsundere stood up straight, feeling all the little bones in her spine pop. The sensation was both painful and wonderful.

"I oughta get back to watching K-ON!," Konata speculated, rubbing her chin. "I left off on episode two. That pawn shop owner looks an awful lot of Kyon."

* * *

><p>In the center front of the crowd stood a group of friends hailing from one of the largest middle school high school campuses in Japan: Astraea Hill. There was a fairly spacey girl who had her auburn locks gathered into a messy ponytail at the back of her head. At her side stood a taller girl with violet eyes and blue hair put up in a bun with an elegant white bow. These two attended Miator, the most prestigious school on Astraea Hill. With them came three friends from their rival school, Spica.

"I love this song — it's so cute!" the redhead, Nagisa, squealed. "I wonder what it's called?"

"I'm going to guess 'Fuwa Fuwa Time,'" Tsubomi, a pink-haired middle schooler from Spica, responded sarcastically. She was regretting wearing her trademark sweater to this show. It may have been cold outside, but in Hair with all the girls packed close together it was miserably warm.

Tamao, the blunette and Nagisa's date, leaned in close to the redhead. "Where did you tell Shizuma-sama we were going?"

Nagisa blinked. "Umm…The Kafka symposium?"

"Okay." Tamao breathed a sigh of relief.

Nagisa fidgeted a bit. "I'm not comfortable with lying to Shizuma-sama, Tamao-chan…"

"Well…" The poet linked her hand with the redhead's. "You said everything was drying up between you two, ne?" Nagisa's hesitant silence was like music to Tamao's ears. The two of them had been through their share of hardships, the most recent Étoile selection nearly shattering their friendship like glass. But fate had been dealing Tamao an awfully generous hand of late. _All Nagisa-chan has to do is break up with Hanazono Hecate-san, and…_

Tamao was just offering her aid in the redhead's breaking up with Shizuma when a girl with long black hair and clever brown eyes crashed through the throng of people, bearing drinks.

"Who wants a stout?" she yelled over the cacophony of music and shrieking girls.

Tsubomi looked at her in horror; even Tamao seemed a bit surprised. "Yaya-senpai!" the pinkette fumed. "Underage drinking is wrong!"

Tamao queried, "How in the world did you get those? Do you have a fake ID or something?"

Grinning, Yaya shook her head. Her swaying balance and flushed face suggested that this wasn't her first beer tonight. "That Asumi-san's awesome! She'll give you anything so long as you can pay for it!"

"Okay, that's just illegal," Tsubomi muttered, turning her vehement stare away from the senpai and towards the stage. "Why hasn't this place been shut down?"

Ignoring the kouhai's remarks, Yaya sidled up to Hikari and watched the band with her. Afterschool Tea Time just about seemed ready to bring home Light and Fluffy Time. Yaya commented, "Hikari, you'd look so much like that keyboardist if you'd stop plucking your eyebrows."

Hikari blinked her turquoise eyes, confused. "But, Yaya-chan, I don't pluck my eyebrows."

Tsubomi remarked — not necessarily harshly, but when she was addressing Yaya one could never be sure: "And you'd look like that bass player if you'd get a decent haircut, Yaya-senpai."

"That bass player you totally have a crush on?"

The pinkette's golden eyes widened in horror. "I don't have a crush on her!"

"Then why were you staring at her like that?" Yaya queried wisely, enjoying Tsubomi's tortured expression.

"Staring at her like what?"

The brunette shrugged, just to punish her. She couldn't help it. Her reputation for pruning younger girls' egos had been established long ago. "You know, staring…with that dewy, longing look in your eyes that speaks a desire for that bassist to—"

"Zip it, aho! Baka! _Dummkopf!_"

"Since when do you speak German…?"

* * *

><p>Somewhere farther back danced two certain American girls. Having recently graduated from King High School in Los Angeles, Spencer Carlin and Ashley Davies had been treated to a vacation in Japan where the culture was interesting, the history enriching, and the yuri plentiful. The trip came courtesy of Paula, Spencer's mother: a sort of apology for not previously being supportive of their relationship.<p>

"Isn't this amazing?" Ashley grinned. "It's strictly A-list!"

Spencer giggled, following her girlfriend's lead. Only Ashley would gauge what was A-list in Japan after staying there for only a day. Despite her being jet-lagged, Spencer the blonde with the heart of gold willingly accompanied Ashley the brunette with the ego of steel to Hair.

"So which of these girls would you sleep with?"

Spencer's brown eyes widened in shock before she retorted, "You."

Ashley laughed, and the sound thrilled the blonde Ohio belle as much as it did when they first met. "I mean in that band."

For the first time that night Spencer's eyes tore away from her girlfriend. She considered the band, enjoying her sovereign right as a lesbian to check out girls, assessing each girl's roll-in-the-hay potential.

"The drummer," she finally answered. Ashley pursed her lips in disagreement. Spencer added, "There's something about her that reminds me of you."

"She looks like she could tear up the streets downtown with awesomeness, yes."

"What about you?"

Ashley didn't hesitate. "The keyboardist." Winking a smoky eye, she seductively pulled Spencer closer. "I've always been fond of blondes…"

* * *

><p>AN

The references aren't going away. I reserve the right to make any references I want. In fact, I feel another one coming on, a bit like a sneeze...

All tsundere girls must have pigtails, huh? And here I thought they all had to be voiced by Rie Kugimiya.


	18. Bravery

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Eighteen  
><strong>

**Bravery**

Jun swayed loosely, caught up in the crowd's excitement. The once unassuming, whimsical kouhai was now cheering and waving her fists with a fervor that closely rivaled that of the other girls in the audience. Like these other girls, Jun was lent audacity by alcohol (a gin and tonic Asumi had sold her with a wink and a nudge). Like the rest of the audience, her enthusiasm branched from her restless longing for a girl. The girl Jun wanted, however, was not up on stage.

Ui stood next to her, her soft features washed in a neon glow from the stage lights. She looked fascinatingly beautiful. The lights, in their finest trickery, had highlighted and accented the younger Hirasawa girl's face so elegantly that Jun was rendered absolutely stupefied. Another drink could perhaps solve this problem, but the pigtailed girl worried she'd make a fool of herself. It was bad enough that she had partaken in underage drinking, but with the situation she faced here and now she couldn't not drink.

Glad though she was that Ui was happy, no longer torn up over Yui and Azusa, Jun felt a little dissatisfied herself.

Carefully balancing herself, Jun leaned over and tapped Ui's shoulder. The feeling of soft fabric sweeping over even softer skin was heavenly. When Ui turned to face her, Jun yelled over the crowd, "I'm getting something to drink. Can I get you anything?"

Ui shook her head. "Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked, her gentle voice heavy with concern.

Smiling hugely, Jun let her hand linger on Ui's shoulder. "I'm just getting a Coke. No need to worry." Out of courtesy she offered to get Nodoka something (but the bespectacled girl wanted nought), and staggered back over to the bar.

"Oi, oi, don't you think you've had enough?" Asumi suggested when she saw Jun elbow herself on the bar.

"That seems to be the general consensus," the pigtailed girl chuckled. "I just want a Coke."

Jun dipped her head and stared at the glossy, swirling woodwork whilst the bartender filled a glass with Coca-Cola. All around her girls were clustered in pairs — laughing, chatting, and basically being in love with each other. Jun had never had the experience of being loved by someone. She had never had the experience of loving someone. It spooked her, these new feelings, the desire to just make somebody happy, the fact that love had suddenly become a priority over her own personal achievement.

"So, are you here with someone?" Asumi asked, setting the cold, perspiring glass before Jun — chatting up the customer, like any good bartender.

The kouhai shook her head.

"You're here with someone you want to be with." Asumi phrased that not as a question, but a statement; and there was something mighty knowing about the way she peered at Jun over her glasses.

_No flies on this one, _the pigtailed girl thought. She nodded solemnly, still holding a mouthful of Coke.

Her aurum eyes bright with interest, Asumi leaned forward on the bar, crossing her ankles casually. Jun gulped as the bartender's low-cut top fell forward a bit, exposing the lacy edges of her bra. "Tell me about her. What's her name? What's she like?"

Jun held another mouthful of soda, contemplating her answer. What was it about Ui that so drew the jazz bassist to her? The only clue Jun had, the only thing she could put in words, was the ethereal allure Ui had that compelled Jun to stay by her side. The kouhai swallowed, murmured, "Well…She's very, uh…"

"Jun-chan."

The pigtailed girl was just about to say _alluring _when she heard that sweet voice in her left ear, felt that genial touch on her shoulder. She smiled. "'Sup, Ui-chan," she grinned, turning towards her friend.

"I changed my mind — I want something to drink. Do you have iced tea?" she asked Asumi.

The bartender shook her head apologetically. "I stopped serving it two months ago when no one bought it. The shakes here are great, though."

Ui smiled. "Great," she echoed. "I'll take one."

"How would you like it? Thin-thick, medium-thick, or thick-thick?"

The ponytailed girl chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered her options. "Thick-thick," she decided.

"Comin' right up." Asumi departed to make Ui her shake.

Ui watched Afterschool Tea Time momentarily before she claimed the stool next to her inebriated friend. Jun seemed to be giving her no regard, her face turned towards her cold glass of cola, but she was actually watching the younger Hirasawa girl from the corner of her eye, observing her from an emotional distance. When it came to first love, one could never be too cautious.

"What's going on, Jun-chan?"

"Mm?" the pigtailed girl grunted, feigning ignorance.

"You seem distant." Ui's disconcerted face was a crystal clear sight amid the pot smoke. "Is something wrong?"

Jun opened her mouth to deny this, but decided it was useless. Lying and saying that nothing was wrong would make her seem more obvious. Beside her, the corners of Ui's mouth tightened — it reminded Jun of their trip to Tokyo; only this time Ui was making that face for her.

The kouhai bassist released her straw from her mouth and sighed. "I have something to tell you," said she, turning to face Ui, "and you're not going to like it."

Ui leaned forward, chin in palm. "Try me."

Jun's dark eyes swam. Her heart began thundering once she realized what she was throwing herself into. Her neurons were clogging her nerves in one big traffic jam. Her hesitation only proved detrimental as it allowed her doubts to catch up to her. There was a very good, very likely chance that Ui would not like Jun back. She had said that she loved Yui in every way, and that included some of the ways Jun loved Ui.

_So I love her, _the pigtailed girl thought vulnerably. A raw torrent of emotions bloomed in her chest, as though her heart had bursted. Her breath caught painfully in her throat. _I really do love Ui-chan. _If only she could say that out loud.

The intensity betwixt them was so thick that they both started when Asumi set the cup down on the bar.

"Thick-thick chocolate shake," she cheered in a sing-song voice.

"Thank you," Ui said faintly. Her eyes still on Jun, she accepted the shake.

Jun exhaled, wondering if all this had really just happened. If she really had almost confessed her love. _Probably not. I could never be so bold. _She turned back to her own drink, hoping to find solace in a caffeinated soft drink.

Ui stared in dismay at her straw; as hard as she was sucking, the shake crept up only a third of its length. Her cheeks prickled and her chest tightened as she sucked harder still.

"Too thick, aneesan?" Asumi asked drolly.

"I think I just broke a rib," Ui gasped. "Thanks, Jun-chan," she smiled when her friend passed her a spoon.

Asumi cocked her head, studying Ui. "Are you related to that neesan up there? With the Les Paul?"

"I'm her sister."

"Ah," the bartender nodded, standing up straight. "You look just like her. Are you twins?"

"No," Ui giggled, "but we get asked that often enough." She glanced at the stage. Yui and Azusa were bantering as they had at the talent show last summer, and the latter occasionally swatted the former with her harisen. "I think this is their last song," said she to Jun. "I'm gonna go watch."

Jun nodded solemnly, gnawing her straw. Ui paid for her shake and departed back into the crowd.

Asumi shook her head, arms folded, as she watched Ui go. "Hm. She doesn't have Yui-neesan's legs, but damn! that aneesan has some bazooms on her." When she heard no response from Jun, she looked down to see the kouhai staring sadly at her Coke. Her amber eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. "By the lily! That's the girl you…?"

Jun pursed her lips in response.

"She's _cute!_" the bartender gasped.

The bassist sipped her Coke. _Ui-chan does have that going for her, but that's not why I…why I…_

"She is really, really, cute," Asumi reiterated. She looked at Jun with wide eyes. "You have to do something about this. You have to be brave, okay? This is serious. If you don't tell aneesan there how you feel, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Jun knew this was all true. Asumi had hit the mark so blatantly, Jun didn't even bother refuting it. "But, bartender-san," she said, her voice belying her agony, "what if she doesn't like me back?"

Asumi considered this. Jun waited, expecting, hoping for reassurance. She wanted the bartender to say _of course _Ui liked her back. How could she not? But Asumi didn't say that.

Instead she took Jun's hand in hers. "That's what I mean about being brave."

* * *

><p>A feathery ruffle scraped through her mic as Yui giggled. From what she could see in the audience, people were as much taken by hers and Azusa's antics as the folks at the talent show were. However, some hornier individuals were calling for Azusa to smack something other than Yui's head with her harisen.<p>

Yui squinted her marron eyes, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. As far as she could discern, Nodoka and Ui were coming, as well as Ui's friend…what was her name? Jin?

A swat from Azusa's fan brought her back to attention. She looked curiously at her harisen-wielding girlfriend, who hissed, "We've got less than five minutes before Terror Firma comes on! Introduce the closer!"

The senpai cleared her throat, facing the audience again. "Thanks for having us," she said cheerily. "We'd also like to thank our manager Sawa-chan-sensei for getting us this show. And thanks to Asumi-san and the staff here for being so good to us." She paused reflectively, then laughed. "Y'know, it was so funny when we first came to Hair to schedule this show. Though, really, it's kinda a fog to me. Maybe because I drank too much? Azu-nyan definitely did. We've got a picture of her fast asleep—"

Another rap came from Azusa's harisen, this one far less gentle than before. "Don't get side-tracked, and don't tell stories about me getting drunk."

"But you were so cute when you were drunk—_ow!_" By now Yui had a cross-bandage atop her head. Shaking it off, she continued, "We don't take a reception like this for granted, so we're gonna…we're gonna…we may as well introduce the band."

A rhythmic _THUNK! _resounded from Ritsu's Yamaha drums — the beat of Listen! — over the acclamations from the crowd.

"Bashing those pig skins," Yui spoke, projecting and elongating her voice as if she were announcing Beyonce, "the energetic scam artist, Miss Tainaka Ritsu!"

Two bars later Mio entered with her sparse but melodic bass line. She noticed people clapping quarter notes, but they were off by several beats. She figured it had something to do with the "sound gap" she learned about in physics class last year.

"On the bass guitar; shy, diligent, and easily scared — Miss Akiyama Mio!"

It took several measures of Ritsu and Mio looping Listen!'s intro whilst the audience shrieked, whistled, gave cat calls and phone number requests before Azusa could come in with her guitar part.

"This is our rhythm guitarist; cute but touchy, and wears cat ears about as well as she kisses—"

"Yui!" Azusa croaked, her strumming faltering, missing some beats.

"—Miss Nakano Azu-nyan!"

"Azusa."

"Gesundheit."

Yui had the audience in hysterics now; it was getting ever so slightly out of hand. Whether she knew it or not, the elder guitarist had dropped the bomb about hers and Azusa's relationship. It drove the crowd wild to imagine what Yui and Azusa were doing backstage…

When the audience finally settled down enough Mugi played the melody for Listen!, which provided lovely contrast with Mio and Azusa's countermelodies.

"This next girl," announced Yui, "comes from a wealthy family, but nothing else is known about her. Kind, gentle…except when Sawa-chan-sensei's insulted — Miss Kotobuki Mugi-chan!"

The name Kotobuki did strike a familiar and heated note with over half the crowd. Some of them remembered the olden days, when Holt had a financial influence over the music industry and a sexual influence on Studio 5. They eyed Mugi, noticing how that form filled her little black dress, and wondered if she could bring a similar sexual influence.

"H'aaaaaaaaaaannnnnd-a I!" Yui announced, sounding like a circus conductor. "Hirasawa Yui, the…the, uh…the, uh…" She turned to Azusa. "What can I say about myself?"

"That you're getting off-track again." Had Azusa's hands not been occupied with her guitar she would have hit Yui with her fan.

The senpai happily shrugged off her introduction, content to leave it at her name. Coming in with her part in the intro to Listen!, she said, "Give a little cheer to our cheerless tonight. This…is…Listen!" There was a thrum of silence in which only Mugi played the melody, then everyone re-entered. Yui stepped aside for Mio to take center stage and sing.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the middle of Yui's guitar solo in Listen! Jun returned to the audience, to Ui. The ponytailed girl's chestnut eyes shone in wonder as her older sister danced about the stage with Gitah, her tongue hugging the corner of her mouth. Jun studied Ui's enraptured face and knew a bomb explosion would not divert her attention from Yui. <em>What chance do I stand? <em>the pigtailed girl thought hopelessly. _What chance do I stand against someone Ui-chan was born to?_

Jun's focus shifted to Mio, who had resumed singing. _Mio-senpai and Ritsu-senpai are going out. Mio-senpai's so meek, but she got the girl. _All around her people were falling in love with each other, and Jun was stuck drowning in her cowardly doubts.

And what about Azusa and Yui? Jun sighed, knowing she could never equally match either of them in guts. What she admired the most about Azusa was her uncanny ability to get what she wanted. Azusa often had to compromise a little, but she always came out with a satisfying deal. Jun imagined she had worked this ability in her favor to get Yui.

Listen! ended and the audience exploded into the loudest and longest ovation. Someone in the crowd kicked off a rhythmic quarter-note clap, and everyone else joined in, as if imploring Afterschool Tea Time to keep performing. Jun added her own handclapping to the din, and once again found herself taken in by the crowd's enthusiasm. Her problem with Ui didn't seem any less close to her vulnerable heart, but now it was just another thing factoring into an interesting night.

* * *

><p>Mugi stared uncertainly at the keyboard. She knew what she had agreed to do with it, but she still didn't know if she could. It wasn't something she or the other members of the band were given to.<p>

She turned her beryl eyes toward the audience and smiled. During Yui's introduction of the band Mugi had gotten a pretty loud applause. She suspected that was due in part to Holt's fame in his younger years — now was the time for Mugi to take up his legacy. She realized somewhere in the dark corners of her mind that her father only had a handful of good years left…maybe less due to his unhealthy lifestyle…

Mugi found Sawako in the very front of the audience. Their eyes met and the sensei winked. Mugi returned the gesture by blowing her a kiss. This incited an even more exuberant collective shriek from the crowd.

_Sawa-chan would do what I promised to do without a second thought, _Mugi knew. Her girlfriend had thought it was awesome. It was actually something Death Devil-ish. But Afterschool Tea Time wasn't like Death Devil. Then again, it was Ritsu's idea…

She was going to do it without another thought.

Yui had apparently forgotten about Mugi's planned concert antic. Grinning, she said into the mic, "Well, good night, everybody. Enjoy Terror Fir—"

_**KEEEEYRAAAAASSSSHHHH!**_

The guitarist squeaked in alarum as the Yamaha hurtled directly behind her. The keyboard bounced up sharply, but didn't totally break. A button or two loosed from it.

For once the audience was totally silent.

Mugi stared wide-eyed at the Yamaha laying ten feet away from her. She couldn't say that she had always wanted to experience breaking a keyboard, but this fueled her. Adreneline roared in her fiery blood, making the stand seem light as a feather as she swung it over her head at the Yamaha. Mugi was so taken by the rush that she actually grunted and screamed, sounding like a blood-thirsty Anglo-Saxon, as she bashed the keyboard again and again and again. She didn't stop until every key had flown loose. Those that were left on the stage she kicked into the audience's waiting hands.

"WOO!" she heard Sawako whoop. "Rock'n'roll!" The rest of the spectators joined in shouting their approval.

Backstage, Ritsu shook her head in amazement. "I gotta say, Mugi-chan. I didn't think you would actually do that."

"Me, neither," the ojou panted. Her hands shook: an after-effect of the adrenaline. She ran her sweaty palms along her dress. Then she grinned, her eyes suddenly wild. "That was fun. What else can I break?"

The band shrunk back in terror. Azusa gasped, "Mugi-senpai's a maniac!"

"Just kidding," the keyboardist giggled.

* * *

><p>Once they had changed into regular clothes — save for Mugi, who realized she had left her uniform with her father — the band mingled in the audience whilst Terror Firma performed. Yui and Azusa met up with Nodoka, Ui, and Jun. Mio and Ritsu made their way to the center-front of the crowd to watch the band. That left Mugi to wander about Hair in search of Sawako. Throughout her search she was stopped by countless women who wanted to gush and fawn over her.<p>

She eventually found Sawako at the bar with Asumi. The two cousins conversed openly over bottles of Oberon beer.

"…totally wild," the sensei was saying as Mugi approached. "I mean, we did some wild stuff in Death Devil, yeah, but Jesus. We never smashed anything." Sensing the blonde girl's presence, she turned around. "Oh! Hello there, my dear destructionist."

"Well, hello yourself," Mugi smirked. She refrained from kissing Sawako in greeting, for Asumi was there. The bartender had to depart from company moments later, though, to serve a customer.

"You're dressed awfully casually," Sawako joked. Mugi noticed her eyes flick downward toward her chest before they came back up.

"Ach, this old thing?" the ojou snorted, playing along. "I just threw it on. My real nice dress is at the Laundromat."

The brunette swallowed a mouthful of beer. "Well, you look good in it." _Good _was an understatement to Sawako. But she felt like she had met her lovey-dovey poetic quota at the train station. Besides that, she was ever so slightly drunk. "Hey, how'd you do in the solo contest?"

Beaming, Mugi produced the container with the medal from her purse. "Gold!"

Sawako smiled, her eyes full. "Oh, Mugi-chan…You really took this day by storm," she sighed, playing with a flavicomous ringlet in the keyboardist's bangs.

"Excuse me."

Mugi turned to see two much older women standing before her. The one who spoke up wore a Plumtree T-shirt, jeans, and black Converse shoes. Her short, straight hair was put up in a little ponytail. She appeared to be in her forties.

"Your father is Holt Kotobuki, ne?"

Mugi nodded, prepared to hear praise for her father and a word of hope that she would follow in his footsteps. Her expectations weren't in vain.

"I'm a big, big, _big _fan of his. Seriously." The woman rolled her eyes and made grand sweeping gestures with her hands. "He's been my guycrush ever since Studio 5."

"Studio 5?" Sawako blinked. For the life of her she could not picture Holt in that scene. His name and his picture did not go with that of Rick James.

"Oh, yeah," the woman nodded exuberantly. "He was named one of the sexiest single men in the entertainment industry. That man has more notches on his belt than…than a sky has stars!"

Mugi shifted uncomfortably and averted her eyes. This was a misconception several people seemed to have about her: because she was rich, she wouldn't mind hearing about her father's sex life. The keyboardist had no doubt he had that many notches in his belt. During her parents' divorce Veronique's lawyer tried to prove that he had violated the fidelity clause. His lawyer proved that false. But Mugi had a sickening suspicion that Holt had cheated on Veronique.

The woman turned her eyes upward reflectively. "Let me see…Studio 5 was '77…He was thirty, I was twenty-four, so that would make him…sixty-two!"

Her friend spoke up, "And that would make _you…_"

"I'm fifty-six fucking years old."

Mugi blinked in amazement. This woman was much older than she had taken her for. She thought the woman was her mother's age, which was forty-seven.

"And he had a kid," the woman gasped, tilting her head at Mugi. "You're his spitting image. With his track record I wouldn't put knocking up a woman beyond him — but _raising _the kid!"

The ojou blanched. She wondered how many would-be Tsumugis Holt had planted in women. Probably those women aborted their pregnancies, but still Mugi questioned if she had any brothers or sisters somewhere in this world.

"Who did he have you with?" the woman asked eagerly. "Is he married to her?"

Mugi's mouth fell open as she tried to find a response. She realized she hadn't said anything yet. "Um…okay…He married Veronique Hohnstedt — she's a columnist for a newspaper in Lausanne, Switzerland, but, uh…they got divorced."

"Ah. So be it. I'll bet my paycheck he's thrown himself back into any pretty woman's bed."

Knowing Holt, Mugi found that hard to believe. He was stodgy, eccentric, as sexually charge as a pencil sharpener…but then that was supposed to feel about her father (unless she had a severe Electra complex, but that was more Ui's turf). _Father is absent from home a lot so maybe…_Maybe while he was in Kobe he impulsively bought a keyboard and a blowjob.

"Well…" The woman laid a hand on Mugi's knee. "Please let Holt-san know how very important he is to the music industry."

"Will do." As if he didn't know. That was part of what ruined his marriage.

Mugi and Sawako were silent as the two women left. The teacher took a long gulp of Oberon, wondering what she should say to break this awkward silence. She was surprised by what she heard about Holt. She had thought of him as Suze Orman, but it turned out he was Sean Connery. She had thought he had 'pencil dick' written on his forehead. _I really misunderestimated him._

* * *

><p>Terror Firma was kicking out the jams. The song they were playing now was called 'Underwater Motor Scooter.' Like most of their songs, this one was heavy on the keyboards. Mio noticed their keyboardist played two — an 88-key Korg M50 and a 37-key Moog Little Phatty synthesizer — simultaneously. The raven-haired girl found herself bewitched by her familiarity.<p>

Hitomi plucked an enchanting melody on her three-tone sunburst Telecaster as she sang, "The girls have got a house that's like a caravan / And it's like your holiday whenever you go round."

"This song is serious," Ritsu grinned. When she heard no response from Mio, she turned to see her girlfriend staring blankly at the band. The drummer detached her hand from Mio's and waved it in front of her eyes. "Are you here, space cadet?"

"I am," Mio insisted, startled. "Ricchan, does that keyboardist look familiar to you?"

"What, the nun? No…" Ritsu glared at Mio with a hurt expression. "You're not leaving me for a keyboardist in a nun outfit, are you? I can't help not being rich!"

"I'm not leaving you! And you can't make the assumption that every keyboard player is rich."

Ritsu smirked. "Whoever that familiar keyboardist is, I'd stake my savings on her being rich."

Mio returned her girlfriend's excited smile and squeezed her hand determinedly. "Alright, you're on. I'd like to talk with that keyboardist after the show, and we'll find out if she's rich. I'm betting a thousand yen she's not!"

'Underwater Motor Scooter' ended with a humming final note from the keyboardist and the bassist. Their bass player was an unassuming girl with hair like liquid copper falling down to her shoulders. Her eyes were gray, her expression revealing her shy and sweet personality. She played a turquoise Fender Stu Hamm Urge II bass.

The drummer was a goofy girl, as one could discern by the faces she made whilst playing her mahogany Pearl Sound Check 5-piece drumset. She had long straight black hair and sly brown eyes framed by a pair of round thin-framed glasses.

As Afterschool Tea Time had done, Hitomi introduced Terror Firma one by one. Mio listened eagerly for the keyboardist's name. The drummer was introduced as Katayanagi Ayana, the bassist as Arashiyama Madoka. Then there was herself, Fujusegawa Hitomi.

"All their names are such mouthfuls," Ritsu commented.

"And on funky keyboards," Hitomi called. She paused dramatically. All that was heard was the crowd cheering and Ayana impatiently rolling her sticks on the hi-hat. Then Hitomi twirled her hand toward the habited keyboardist. "Yamoto Chiharu!"


	19. Gambling

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Nineteen  
><strong>

**Gambling**

Mio reacted immediately. "I knew it!" she cried, enthusiastically punching the air above her. She fearfully fell quiet as Chiharu's solemn green eyes flicked toward her; she had been louder than she thought. The keyboardist's curious gaze remained fixed upon Mio, and that intimidated the bassist quite a bit. Then she looked back at her keyboards, ready to play Terror Firma's last song for the night.

"What's your deal?" Ritsu asked, beguiled by her girlfriend's sudden enthusiasm.

"That girl, that keyboardist," Mio babbled. "She was in our first grade class! Remember?"

The drummer reached up to affectionately touch Mio's vibrant face. "All I remember about first grade was you." The bassist's pearlescent eyes swam, and she tenderly grasped Ritsu's hand, holding it to her face. Rritsu, feeling slightly embarrassed, added, "You running across the playground, crying, 'I don't _want _to play Red Rover!'"

Mio groaned. She put Red Rover on the same plane as Bloody Knuckles: the cruelest forms of child's-play. Always she wound up playing Red Rover, and Ritsu always called her over. Remembering that game made Mio's warm fuzzy chill over; she released the drummer's hand.

"I want to take my bet off the table," she decided after a few moments' thought. "There's no way Chiharu-chan's rich."

Ritsu raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? What makes you think that?"

Mio held out her hands plaintively. "Come _on, _Ricchan. She went to Torimizu Primary just like you and me. Iif she was rich she would have gone to…to Chilton Academy or something!"

The drummer snickered and made her wise eyes. "Mio's afraid she's going to lose the bet," she sang.

"Oi! I'm calling off the bet for _your _sake! You're not going to win it!"

"I'm so confident I'll win this that I'm doubling the stakes. Two thousand yen!"

"Ricchan, do you even have the funds to cover that bet?"

Ritsu flinched at the loftiness of that question. Then she retorted, "The question is do _you _have the funds to cover that bet?"

Mio looked similarly uncomfortable at the idea of owing someone two thousand yen. She decided she would bluff. Then she queried, "How are you so sure Chiharu-chan's rich?"

"Sawa-chan-sensei said she comes from the Sakura district. So, if she's not rich like you say she is, why isn't she attending Sakura High School?"

That was a good point. Mio actually didn't know how to counter that. Now it seemed she should take her bet off the table for her own sake. "Maybe she's a dropout," she gulped.

Ritsu shrugged. "Maybe. We'll find out."

* * *

><p>Jun, leaning against a brick wall, watched Ui shiver and turn her coat collar up to warm her ears. A plume of her breath burst from between her full lips as she sighed.<p>

They had left Hair at Jun's request, abandoning its boisterous warmth for the cold reality of a November night. The two of them stood in an alleyway betwixt the bar and the pizza place nextdoor. It reeked slightly from the overflowing Dumpster, but the frigid air subdued its smell. Above them hung the fire escape for Asumi's apartment over her bar. Even higher above them spread the great heavens, the stars like silver dust cast upon the sable sky. The constellation Aquila glittered directly overhead, bringing the forceful nature that is common to those born under the sign Scorpio (the sign now transcending the sun). Jun had read about the Eagle; if Aquila could outstare the sun, then Jun could tell Ui how she felt (the bassist was, after all, a Scorpio).

"Are you," she started, but her throat rasped. She cleared it and tried again: "Are you still mad about Yui-chan and Azusa-chan?"

Ui stared at Jun from the opposite end of the alley, but her face blanked as she considered the question. In the span of time it took for her to formulate a response a brown mouse darted by, squeaking. In the Dumpster a black stray cat raised its head in interest, green eyes glowing.

"Perhaps," Ui said uncertainly. Then she said, "Azusa-chan seems to have it her way all the time between them."

"You don't know that for sure." Ui blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic harshness in Jun's voice. "Yui-chan looks happy, doesn't she?"

The ponytailed girl glared. "She looked happy in primary school when a creepy old man told her he had candy in the back of his car. Were you not listening to me in Tokyo? She doesn't have common sense!"

The two of them fell into miserable silence. Jun sighed, knowing this was not going as she had hoped. _I don't think Ui-chan would be happy with me anyways. _A virtual shadow fell over her eyes.

With a squeak, the brown mouse skittered by again. The black cat, now completely intrigued, jumped down from the Dumpster and silently trotted after it.

"You can't," Jun said quietly, "compare Azusa-chan to a pedophile." She added, "How much about their relationship do you know for sure?"

"How much do you?"

The bassist's hand clenched into a fist which she knocked against the wall. Ui, gleaning enough from her silence, turned her attention to the black cat and the mouse. _It's not my fault my confession turned into a battle royale with the one I love, _Jun told herself. She had never been in love before, had no experience even identifying these emotions, let alone professing them to someone. _A crash-course in the ways of love would be an excellent addition to Sakura's course selection._

Regarding Jun once more, Ui hypothesized, "I think you're deflecting the real problem on to something else."

The pigtailed girl looked at her in interest. _She's right. Absolutely right. Obaa-chan's told me that's one of my nasty habits. _Now Jun knew this was hopeless. How could she ask Ui to return her desire to know her better than anyone else when she hardly knew herself?

Ui continued, "I don't think oneechan or Azusa-chan have anything to do with what's bothering you…Unless…" She was interrupted by an abrupt squeal from the darkest depths of the alley. The cat trotted by with a regal bearing, the brown mouse thrashing in its jaws. Ui narrowed her eyes. _If Azusa-chan's a cat, oneechan's the mouse underneath her paw. _"Unless…Erm…" She glanced aside at Jun. "Jun-chan…you don't…love Azusa-chan, do you?"

_Me? Love Azusa-chan? _Jun refrained from laughing, but she could not suppress the humorous smile on her face. She and Azusa got along great as friends, but as lovers…their relationship would probably be an unstable one with a low ignition point. More suited to an arena than hearth and home. Jun could picture it if she tried: a coupla pigtailed gals out to see the hottest chick flick. _New Moon, _would you do Kristin Stewart, and all that. Nakano Azusa and Suzuki Jun, the two twin-tailed tribadists. Jun fell against the wall, helpless with laughter. Ui cocked her head, not understanding the reason for her friend's mirth. She took it as an affirmative — there was nothing condescending or haughty about Jun's laugh.

"Uh, interesting." Ui's face registered blank confusion. "And very sweet," she added meaningfully. "How long have you liked her for?"

The only response she got was more howling peals of laughter from Jun. Her ribs and cheeks strained so much the bassist feared they would crack. "Too…long!…I…can't…stop!" she gasped, actually referring to her laugh attack. Ui didn't know this, though. Smiling softly, she crouched and placed a hand upon Jun's shaking shoulders. "Well, I'm sure if Azusa-chan knew, she couldn't stop loving you."

This made Jun laugh harder. This was pitiful. Her fretted-over confession had steered itself into the completely opposite direction. Jun had led Ui out here to confess her love — she inadvertently ended up telling her she loved Azusa. It was either the funniest thing or the saddest thing.

* * *

><p>Back inside the snug, less assuming atmosphere of Hair, Terror Firma's performance finally came to its conclusion after their epic cover of 'Aijou no Katamari.' Some girls hung around to get one last drink, a bottle of beer perhaps, something they could take out with them. But most of the girls cleared out, rowdy but more than satisfied by the concert they had seen. They left behind them quite a handsome mess which Konoka and Setsuna now busied themselves cleaning. Asumi also took the necessary preparations for closing her bar. Being that Hair also served as her home, the bartender opened and closed it as she pleased. Tonight it had closed later than usual.<p>

Sawako hung around the bar, her hand semi-casually exploring Mugi's waist. It was much too late for her to head back to her apartment; she'd get more sleep if she just crashed here at Hair. In a farther corner Nodoka chatted with Yui and Azusa. The kaichou seemed anxious to leave — she threw apologetic glances at Konoka and Setsuna, feeling as though she was imposing. Ritsu and Mio had made tracks for the backstage area to talk with Terror Firma.

Asumi sighed as she dragged her smudgy rag almost dazedly across the bar. She looked up to see the last stragglers approaching. Her topaz eyes widened at the pigtailed child they brought with them. _How the hell did a kid get in here?_

Judging by her height and her face, Asumi put this kid somewhere around ten years old. She had such a confident bearing, though, one that suggested that her intellect and emotions had matured beyond her years. _That, or she has Turner's Syndrome. _The bartender refrained from shaking her head in wonder, wore her professional smile, and greeted, "What'll y'all be havin' tonight?"

The eldest of the group spoke up — Asumi put her somewhere around Sawako's age. She had short, wispy bangs and raven curls cascading down her back. "We wan' a Shirley Temple…on the rocks! With vodka."

A sweet, juvenile drink. Asumi surely hoped this spiked Shirley Temple wasn't for curly-locks, whose flushed face and swaying stance suggested that she was drunkity-drunk-drunk. The bartender's hazel eyes fell upon the kid. Flicking a thumb at her, Asumi growled, "It ain't for the kid there, is it?"

"Chiyo-chan?" Curly-locks phrased it as if Asumi was an idiot. She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." Turning her vehement glare at the quailing Chiyo, she snarled, "Chiyo-chan thinks she's too damn good to have a drink with us!"

"I-I'm underage, Yukari-sensei," Chiyo whimpered frightfully.

"Are you outta your mind?" her spark plug of a friend piped up. She was a high school-aged girl, like the majority of Hair's customers, but of shorter than average height with wild black hair that fanned out in the back. She reminded Sawako of Ritsu. "That gem of a bartender's sellin' that stuff to anybody who's got the money! And I know you got the money, Chiyo-chan."

"Just because I can doesn't mean I should, Tomo-chan."

_I would probably draw the line at serving an anklebiter alcohol anyways, _Asumi thought as she blearily prepared a Shirley Temple for Yukari. She really wanted to just go to bed.

"So," Asumi sighed conversationally, throwing in a dash of grenadine with the ginger ale, "this your first time here?"

"It sure is!" Tomo exclaimed. "This bar is freakin' amazing! I'm coming here every weekend!"

Her bespectacled friend cast a wearied eye upon her. _All the way to Yokohama? _her gaze seemed to say. Yomi was used to her childhood friend Tomo dragging her to random places — that is, unless she fell ill (then Tomo would go, call her on the phone, and give her the planned activities, blow by blow) — but this liberal bar for lesbians really took the cake (the music was good, though). The word "meganekko" had snapped all around Yomi that night like sparks on a wire. Tomo had seriously loved this place? "The horny girls here really pulled at your heartstrings, eh? I had no idea you went that way."

Tomo blushed right up to her ears. For once she was completely speechless. Then, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a bark, she waved off the comment as though it was a silly joke. "Ba-hah! Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you, Yomi? I saw you flirting with that girl in the Rolling Stones shirt. No wonder you weren't eager to leave this place!"

The tip of Yomi's nose pinkened. Tomo was mistaken, of course. The girl was flirting with Yomi, not the other way around. She had used one of the worst pick-up lines the brunette had ever heard, too — "You are like a candy bar too me, half sweet and half nuts." Yomi attempted a grim smile at her friend: "It's okay if you're a lesbian. I'll still be your friend."

"Don't say that like you feel sorry for me!…And I'm _not _gay!"

"'Ey, c'mon, girl," a ditzy girl with shoulder-length black hair spoke. "Don't be hatin'. Besides, it's just rude to bring crap like this up, isn't it? Like we say in Osaka: 'Don't ask, don't sell.'"

The group fell silent at Osaka from Osaka's air-headed remark. Chiyo, Yukari, Minamo, Kagura, Sakaki, and Kaorin sweat-dropped whilst Yomi and Tomo continued glaring. The bespectacled girl broke the glaring contest to raise an eyebrow at Osaka. That was when Tomo noticed Mugi; she shrieked and flew back.

"Waauugghh? Foreigner!"

Mugi cocked her head, her beryl eyes wide and blank with confusion. "Eh? I'm no foreigner. I was born in Hokkaido."

"Phony!" Tomo accused, jabbing a finger at the flinching ojou. "Don't think you can fool me! You have blonde hair and blue eyes, and where I come from, that screams 'for' to the…the, uh, '-eigner.'"

"For Christ's sake, Tomo," Yomi sighed. "She speaks Japanese. What more do you want?"

"My mother's from Switzerland," Mugi supplied.

Osaka nodded, coming to the blonde keyboardist's defense. "Yeah, 'n you know, foreigness always skips a generation."

Awkward silence again, save for when Asumi dropped the cherry into Yukari's drink. She quickly passed it to the English teacher, eager to get them all out of here so she could shut down and go to sleep. Yukari and the gang were just about to leave when Sawako stopped her.

"They call you 'sensei,'" she observed. "Are you their teacher?"

"That I am," Yukari said proudly, standing tall.

Asumi cast her cousin a withering glance.

Sawako smiled at Yukari. "I teach as well, at Sakura High School. Yamanaka Sawako." She offered her hand, but shot it forward a little too eagerly. Yukari backed away a little as Sawako's hand nearly struck her chest.

"Quite brave, aren't you?" The English teacher shook a reprimanding finger at Sawako. "Don't be mistaken. I may have a comely face and a great body, but I don't play for that team—_uwaagahh!_" she cried as Minamo, her friend who also taught, jerked at the collar of her jacket.

"Don't flatter yourself," she growled. "You just made yourself look stupid to a stranger."

"Call me stupid, will you?" Yukari snapped beligerently as Minamo dragged her out of Hair. "At least I don't teach P.E.! Where'd you get your teaching degree? From the back of a cereal box?"

"Should Yukari-sensei be driving like this?" Chiyo queried fearfully.

"Her car's probably been towed by now," Kagura hypothesized.

The bar was finally totally silent once they had departed. Yawning, Asumi leaned against the bar and rubbed her sore eyes. Sawako remained sitting at the bar, her hand still extended, her face blank. "What…just…happened there?" she muttered.

Mugi scowled and folded her arms across her chest. "Blonde hair and blue eyes. Huh! What a stereotype!"

Once Konoka and Setsuna finished sweeping the last of Hair's wood floors, they approached Asumi, requesting to clock out. Konoka looked absolutely drained as she murmured, "I have to get up early to fix breakfast for my room mate and teacher."

The bartender nodded. She had heard of this before. Though she was pardoning the brune ojou to leave, she inquired, "Why can't Asuna-san make her own breakfast?"

Konoka and Setsuna hesitated at the doorway. The latter of the two sweat-dropped. The former giggled good-naturedly. "Well, she did try once when we were first years, but…"

_DEPART FROM YOUR DORMS IMMEDIATELY! the intercom rasped as the girls of Mahora Academy grouped about the exit. Their eyes watered from the stinging smoke. GET AT LEAST ONE HUNDRED FEET AWAY FROM THE BUILDING. REPEAT, THERE IS A FIRE IN THE DORMS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!_

Asumi nodded understandingly. Setsuna itched an eyebrow and wondered, _What was up with that random flashback? I sure hope we're not turning into Family Guy!_


	20. Chiharu

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Chiharu**

"So, uh, Asumi," Sawako sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Me and Ritsu-san were talking—"

"Ritsu…?" Asumi looked up from the cash register. Her amber eyes squinted behind her plastic-frame glasses. Then her forehead smoothed in recognition. "Oh, yeah. The runty drummer with the busty girlfriend…Lucky bitch," she snarled, her smooth hand balling into a fist.

Sawako sweat-dropped, and beside her, a blanche drop of sweat slid down Mugi's head as well. The sensei stammered, "Yeah…Heh…Lucky…" _Not as lucky as me, though. _She brought her hand to the small of Mugi's back. The ojou giggled, both hoping and dreading that her girlfriend's hand should come slightly lower…

"Uh, anyways!" Sawako piped up. "Ritsu-san and me were talking about that bus you sent for us."

Her cousin grinned. "Pretty sweet, huh? I love that old bus," she sighed, turning her eyes reflectively toward the ceiling. "I take it to Hokkaido sometimes."

"HOKKAIDO?" Sawako burst, standing upright. Beside her, Mugi winced and checked her ears for blood.

Asumi looked at Sawako with wide eyes, startled by her exclamation. There was a few moments' silence as the two cousins stared at each other, both of them red-cheeked for their own reasons. Mugi's blue eyes, wide with tension, drifted from one to the other. She dared not breathe. Then something clicked between them as Sawako gleaned something from her cousin, and Asumi realized what Sawako could be gleaning.

"How is this happening, Asumi?" The tension seeped from the sensei's body, and she now leaned haggardly on the bar. "A private bus, trips to Hokkaido…I was just here two months ago, and you could barely afford to stay in Yokohama! You were drunk as a skunk and crying about having to crawl back to your parents — my aunt and uncle — in Nara!"

Asumi frowned at her cash register. Her eyes were downturned and dark with some unpleasant emotion.

Sawako rubbed her chin. "Come to think of it, it really is a miracle that Hair is still in business, what with how badly-off you were…Asumi, this isn't a money-laundering scheme for the yakuza, is it?"

The bartender's eyes flashed ferociously as she glanced up at Sawako. "I can't believe you would say such a thing! You know I've always hated the mob, and I've been trying to shake that ghetto reputation since I started going to school in Osaka!"

Mugi caught a flash on Asumi's left hand, and suddenly she understood the bus and the trips to Hokkaido.

"Well, then, how is this happening?" Sawako demanded.

Asumi's eyes were full as she opened her mouth to respond. Then she closed it. A deep red flush bloomed in her face — a flush redder than Sawako had ever seen. She hid her left hand behind her back and muttered, "It is none of your business, Sawako-neesan."

The sensei knew that if she was tacking an honorific at the end of a relative's name she was being as far from chummy as was possible for Asumi. Sawako spluttered, "None of my — Jesus H. Christ. We've been more than just cousins for as long as either of us could remember! When we were kids we _asked _our parents if we could hang out together! How many families are that close?"

_Not mine, _Mugi thought. This display of family affection touched the most vulnerable part of the keyboardist's heart. She could feel the sisterly love for Asumi vicariously through Sawako. This was nothing Mugi had ever seen or felt before. She grew up in a sterile mansion where butlers served her meals and her parents were practically trying to kill each other. This loving passion between Sawako and Asumi was enough to bring a tear to Mugi's eye.

"Asumi," said the sensei. "Who was there when you broke up with Hiroko?"

The bartender muttered, "You were."

"Who was there when you broke up with Mizue?"

"…You were."

"And Shigeko?"

"You."

"And Natsuko?"

"You."

"And Eiko? And Akane, Tsubasa, Izumi, Kotone, Chiasa, Yuna, Chihiro, Minako, and Shiori?"

_Wow, what a track record, _Mugi thought.

Asumi sighed, "You were." She stared apologetically at her favorite cousin whom she had idolized ever since she could talk. "Well, I guess I'll tell you then. You were going to find out anyways."

Mugi knew this was true.

The bartender started to bring her left hand back out from behind her. "I'm," she began, but stopped when she saw someone come in through the door. "Kaede!" she blushingly greeted with a warmth in her soprano voice that can only come from a woman in love.

Sawako sighed. _So there's yet another one I have to help her break up with. _She turned on her stool, expecting to find a cute, perky twenty-something girl standing in Hair's entrance.

What she found instead was a handsome thirty-something man with black hair, a mustache, and a great smile.

Sawako looked back at her simpering cousin. Then at the beaming man. Then at her cousin. Blushing woman, vibrantly smiling man — elementary, my dear Watson. Asumi was in love with a guy.

The sensei masked her surprise with: "Woah. I'm guessing this is a rare sight in Hair."

"Yeah — 'cause I wear pants," the man called Kaede chuckled, strolling up to the bar.

"Kaede-sensei!" Mugi gasped.

Kaede's dark eyes flicked toward the ojou. His face was half-blank as he half-recognized the voice: it was deeper, though no less gentle and sweet. Then his face broke out in a pleasantly surprised smile. "Kotobuki Tsumugi! As I live and breathe!"

Sawako and Asumi asked simultaneously, "You two know each other?"

"Kaede-sensei was my piano teacher," Mugi explained brightly.

_He must be one helluva pianist, _Sawako thought.

"Back when Mugi-chan was knee-high to a grasshopper," he added. "She was the cutest thing ever." There followed an anecdote dating back to when Mugi was five years old. Kaede had given her this bit of piano trivia: Beethoven was deaf, and had composed his pieces by feeling the vibrations of a piano. This had staggered wee Mugi, who dedicated herself to learning the pieces and tuning the instrument by vibration. She would lean over the piano, her face touching it whilst she played. This had been the source of many a neckache for the little girl. But it was different.

Sawako understood. When she first learned guitar she bought a lefty acoustic and learned it right-handed and backwards.

"So how are you, Kaede-sensei?" Mugi inquired cheerily.

"Delirious," he responded. "I'm about to get married."

"Really? Ohhh, Kaede-sensei! That's wonderfulllll!" Even though her parents were divorced, Mugi was still a devout cheerleader for love. Right now she looked about ready to do a herky.

"Big, big, _big _wedding in Kobe. Sorta adds some southern charm, eh?"

Sawako stared at Asumi, her eyebrows lowering over wide, disbelieving eyes. She gasped in English, her usually disguised Kansai accent coming out thick, "Oh…my…gaw…" Her cousin, who didn't understand English, stared blankly at her. "You're getting married?" the sensei ranted in Japanese. "To him?"

Asumi raised an eyebrow, holding her silence. She seemed insulted by Sawako's skepticism.

"You little trick!" Sawako raged. "You brat!"

"Sawa-chan!" Mugi gasped, standing up. "That's not very—"

"_I'm _not married yet!"

"Ah. Now I get it." Sighing, the ojou sat back down.

"Oh, would you take a chill pill," Asumi huffed, waving her hand. "You're all I've got for a maid of honor."

"I'm no 'maid'…" Sawako puffed out her cheeks childishly.

Asumi then departed to clean up the kitchen and Kaede left to return to his piano shop. Almost as soon as she and Sawako were left alone, Mugi leaned in and whispered, "I thought she was…gay."

"Y'think?" her girlfriend hissed. "She used to be _the _lesbian ladykiller. I helped her dispose of thirteen girls. The rest of 'em she broke up with in ladies' bathrooms at various restaurants." She threw a glance at the exit through which Kaede left. "This explains the bus. She must be marrying him for the money!"

"Or they could really be in love."

Sawako sighed as she looked at Mugi, whose gentle face was now vibrant with passionate stubbornness. _Sometimes I forget that she's only eighteen. But that doesn't mean I have to sugar-coat everything. _"They are not in love — she isn't, anyways. Asumi said ten years ago that she would sooner drive upholstery tacks into her gums than date a guy."

"Love doesn't exist in a vacuum," Mugi argued. "You can't just exclusively associate your affections with one gender. When you get right down to it, it's personality that matters." Mugi was a cheerleader for love, but like the Tokyo Giants, her team was having a rough season.

The teacher huffed, refusing to believe that this was true. Asumi would not marry a guy unless it could prevent her crawling back to her parents' house. Also, the bartender had a tendency to never follow up on things she said she'd do. When she was nineteen she announced that she would be quitting school to volunteer her time helping orphans in third-world countries. The orphans are still waiting. This wedding would never happen.

"Well," Mugi sighed, checking the clock on the wall, "it's about time for me to take off."

"Are you sure you can't stay the night here?"

The ojou gulped. Her basic instincts were screaming at her to stay the night in their own ways. Her pulse pounding in her head, the dry feeling in her mouth, the heat in her chest spiraling downward. This would be their first night together, alone, no Holt or butlers around, just the two of them free to do whatever they wanted, go as far as they wanted. Granted, they only started dating a week ago, but the six-month rule had no sway over a grown woman and her needs.

Mugi shook her head. "No, I can't." Her womanly needs could not foresee the trouble she would get in with Holt if she spent the night.

Sawako had the blonde girl by her wrist, by which she now pulled her in. Her other hand came to her waist. Mugi settled her free arm around the sensei's neck.

The first kiss was only pure compared to the others that night. Sawako opened her mouth, wetting Mugi's parched mouth with her tongue. The keyboardist gasped between kisses, her hot-blooded heart urging her lungs onward faster and faster, like a drill instructor. Her sweaty hands shook as she closed her lips around her girlfriend's tongue, sucking on it until Sawako groaned. Mugi was seriously reconsidering her decision to not stay the night. She could tell her father that she had stayed the night at a friend's place. She could. He would never know the truth.

The prospect of staying the night seemed even more promising when Sawako's hand trailed towards the front, pulling the dress up to give her access to—

"Y'know, ordinarily I'd be getting turned on." Sawako and Mugi jumped apart in alarm. Behind the bar stood Asumi, locking the cash register, eyes averted. "But one of you's my blood relative, so take that somewhere else."

"I was just about to go anyways." Mugi's parting line came out louder than she had intended. A mottled blush colored her cheeks and her chest. She looked at Sawako, silently bidding her good night, then skeeted out of Hair.

Once outside the enormity of that concupiscible exchange crashed down on Mugi, this time with more sensibility. Sawako really did intend to bring her hand where only Mugi's hand had been before. The keyboardist knew deep within her gut that perhaps next time there would be no Holt or Asumi holding either of them back.

* * *

><p>Whereas Mio had doubts and second thoughts about approaching Chiharu (they hardly spoke to each other, over ten years ago), Ritsu seemed confident in going to speak with an old classmate. She threw open the door to the backstage room and strolled right in. She came tearing back out — pale, saucer-eyed, and bloody-nosed — after she came upon Chiharu helping Hitomi out of her bustier.<p>

"You never do knock, so serves you right," Mio admonished, only glad that she had not followed her girlfriend inside. Somehow she knew just barging in would lead to this. _There goes our good first impression._

Ritsu gagged. After seeing Terror Firma's guitarist like that, she did not want to hear the word 'knock.'

It didn't take long for Terror Firma guitarist and keyboardist to give Afterschool Tea Time bassist and drummer the all-clear. Hitomi appeared in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a three-quarter sleeve plaid shirt. Her blue eyes hooded in annoyance as she regarded Ritsu, telling the "drummer-han" she could come in for whatever she wanted. Hitomi seemed miffed when Ritsu did not say she was sorry. Mio brought the side of her hand to her nose in apology.

The bassist could have laughed at the wave of nostalgia that overcame her when she beheld her old classmate, her fellow sister mantel of five minutes. Chiharu had grown up to be one of the short girls who exude an insecurity of their unintimidating heights. Her ash brown hair which used to be styled in perfectly straight shelf bangs was now cut into a fluffy pixie style. But everything else was the same about Chiharu: the oval face, the hooded green eyes, the dark eyebrows. She and Madoka stood leering at Ayana whilst the scrappy drummer scurried about the room.

Madoka groaned, "How come everytime we take you somewhere you lose something?"

"You wanna go on tour without a drummer, Ginger-chan?" Ayana retorted in a voice that was not at all menacing. "I'd be happy to stay in the dorms."

The redhead flushed. "I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Call you what? Ginger?"

Chiharu squeezed her eyes shut, probably wishing she could go back home. When she opened them they fell upon Mio and Ritsu lingering uncertainly in the corner. She blinked, averted her eyes, her thick brows lowering uncomfortably. When she looked back she found them still staring. Did they want to speak with her?

"Hi," she murmured, keeping her face on Ayana.

"Well, hi yourself, Chiharu-chan!" Ritsu sang, startling the keyboardist. Chiharu's verdant eyes darted about, and Mio actually laughed. For Chiharu had done the exact same thing when Mrs. Abe had confronted her.

Hitomi crossed her arms and glowered at Ritsu. "How do you know Chiharu, drummer-han?" she queried suspiciously.

Chiharu held up a hand to assure her Kansaian girlfriend that everything was fine as freckles. "I do know you, don't I," she grunted. Her eagle eyes flicked to Mio. "Both of you. You're very familiar." She now regarded Mio: "You would have to be with all the gawking you did all night."

A cloud of steam burst from the raven-haired girl's head amid the crimson heat that rose to her face. Chiharu wasn't as aggressive as Ritsu, but nevertheless she was terribly blunt.

Chiharu smiled. Still she spoke to Mio, but her eyes zipped back toward Ritsu. "I hope that was why you were gawking. I'm happily taken, and I would hate to be the rift between you two. Sinistromanuel and stormy petrel. That is what we call a miracle pairing."

Now Mio's head burst for two reasons which she couldn't form coherent sentences for. Instead she ended up babbling gibberish. "I'm not in love with — wait! You remember — Taken?...Oh, that guitarist— miracle?"

"You remember." Ritsu flashed a toothy grin at Chiharu. They were roughly the same height. "Good to see you again, you old caricaturist."

Ayana's arm darted under the couch in search of her cell phone. "You guys got some weird-ass nicknames."

"We had a weird-ass sensei," Chiharu responded. She had earned the name 'caricaturist' for the cartoons she drew in the middle of class. Most of them had been gags modeled off of _Tom and Jerry. _Then she began to draw outrageous pictures of Mrs. Abe. The most popular one involved a classmate punching the teacher in the gut, crying, "SURPRISE CHILD ABORTION!" Mrs. Abe was puking a fetus. Chiharu was glad none of those got to the teacher…or Aiko, the class tattle-tale.

"Awesome performance you put on," Ritsu acclaimed, nodding. "How did you get to replace New Order?"

"Asumi-san heard our album," Chiharu replied.

Mio blinked. "Album…?" Just how well-established _was _Terror Firma, she wondered. She had thought it was nothing more than four unlikely girls thrown together — like Afterschool Tea Time. But Mio supposed _every _band got their start that way.

She jumped forward. "You recorded an album, Chiharu-chan? An actual, bonified, real album? Really?"

Chiharu flinched in surprise. Backing away from Mio, she fidgeted and turned her eyes to the floor. "It's…no great shakes…" She chuckled a bit. "Only seventeen minutes long. Months of hard work."

Ayana shrugged as she checked under the couch for the umpteenth time. "We make concise statements."

"I listened to it approximately thirty-two times on the bus to here from Kyoto," Hitomi sighed.

"But, but," Mio babbled. Some part of her feared Chiharu thought she was mentally ill. Sentences could no longer come together. "_How?_"

The keyboardist had the look on her face of a girl who had either accidently set her house on fire or disclosed the wrong bean of information to a crazy-bus. This was not how she remembered Mio. Akiyama-san the reticent sinistromanuel spoke at whisper-volume, and she only spoke one word for every ten you spoke. Chiharu glanced at Ritsu, suspecting she had something to do with this.

Ritsu added, "Which studio did you record at? Columbia? Honey Records? Jeepster? Matador?"

Chiharu shrunk further away, fearing this reunion would escalate to violence. Crossing her arms and lowering her chin, her sharp eyes searching for an escape, she stuttered, "Not at a studio. We used my grandpa's recording equipment to make it. Hitomi—" she pointed at her taciturn guitarist girlfriend "—her mother is a publicist, and an amazing one at that. She did the bulk of the work promoting our album. Aya-chan—" she now pointed at Ayana, who scowled around the room for her cell phone "—her father played the album over the radio. He also announced our show at Hair."

Mio looked at Ritsu, who pursed her lips and nodded in a well-how-about-that gesture. It seemed to them that their old classmate had been blessed with favorable connections.

The drummer tapped her chin. "I didn't know you could record albums at home."

"We're taking a class in it," Mio sighed, "or have you forgotten?"

Chiharu relaxed her posture and smiled. "Ah, a recording class? We don't have that at St. Mary."

At Chiharu's request, Mio explained the process they learned. The keyboardist nodded her head knowingly, smiling wistfully at the lack of such a class at her own school. When Mio told her that the class used Noteworthy 7 to edit tracks, Chiharu's eyes widened in distaste. Faltering, Mio practically whispered, "Noteworthy's…no good?"

Her eyes still wide, Chiharu shook her head. "No." For the first time, she sounded truly passionate about something. "Hell, no. Cakewalk's the only way to go if you're serious about recording. All Noteworthy does is compression and panning. Cakewalk can do a hundred times more than that. It also provides sample beats and sound effects."

"Well, Noteworthy's all we got," Ritsu sighed, shoving her hands in her blazer pockets. "It's all Sakuragaoka can afford. Not everyone's rich, _Chiharu._"

The keyboardist's chin jerked up as she gulped. In her wide virude eyes Ritsu detected an immensely satisfying fear of recognition.

Mio's thin lips tightened as she set her jaw. _Gosh, it would be nice if we could get an album out. _Writing new songs and performing them for crowds assembled at the school festival was fun, but the bassist knew they were quickly moving beyond that. They had performed at their last (Azusa's penultimate) festival; it was time to take it to the next level. _But I don't have enough money to buy Cakewalk software…_Mio hummed thoughtfully. _Maybe if we pool our savings together, then…Oh, but we need other equipment like mics…_

Ritsu asked, "Mio, d'you think we should record an album?"

Carl Jung's theory on 'meaningful coincidence' had nothing on Mio's frantic reaction. "Uh — uh, well, I wasn't thinking that, but —" She parted her bangs out of her slate eyes, unconsciously thinking about how much she needed a haircut. "Um, but we can't afford it."

"Sure we can! Cakewalk can't cost more than five thousand yen!"

"Ten thousand," Chiharu corrected. She could feel guilt straining her chest like a seatbelt as Mio and Ritsu's shoulders slumped in pitiful defeat. She had never known li'l Akiyama-san and Tainaka-san were so sharply inclined to the strong, loving world of music. But they were serious, the keyboardist realized. Only serious musicians could craft such tunes as had been performed tonight with that level of care. In that, Chiharu related Afterschool Tea Time to Belle and Sebastian, her favorite band.

"Uh, look," she coughed. "Why don't you drop by my grandpa's place next weekend? I'll help you produce your album."

Mio's jaw wagged open. Ritsu had stars in her eyes. "You would?" the drummer chirped in a falsetto voice. "I…I…Oh, my God!"

"Chiharu-chan…!" Mio gasped.

Chiharu glared aside and blushed. "None of that," she grunted, suppressing the emotion in her voice. "I expected better of you two. I'm only willing to do this if you're serious. If you're not…don't bother showing up."

"When it comes to recording, Chiharu has a tendency to crack the whip," Hitomi warned.

Mio was absolutely certain that she was seriousenough to record a great album. She knew Azusa would flip for this. Mugi would be an active and willing participant. Even Ritsu would press her nose to the grinder. But…

"Maybe we should leave Yui at home," Ritsu murmured. "Let Azu-nyan do her parts." The idea of Yui working for the stern and unyielding Chiharu frightened the drummer. Chiharu would have so little patience for Yui's shenanigans that she might literally crack a whip at her…or just send the lot of them home.

"We can't," Mio burst, her voice thick. "Yui's a part of us — we can't just leave her out!"

"Eh, you're right. But she better not slack off!"

Madoka groaned in annoyance as Ayana checked under the couch once more. The redheaded bassist pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and brought up her list of contacts. "I'm calling your phone, Aya-chan. If that doesn't help you find it, we have to go home regardless."

"Madoka-chan," Ayana huffed, "if you grub on me one more time I'm getting St. Mary in on our own Kick a Ginger Day."

Seeing as Madoka was the only ginger on the boarding school's campus, that would mean everyone would come for her. She ignored her friend's complaints and scrolled through her contacts. Ayana's name was first on the list, so the task of calling her was completed in nanoseconds. Madoka's silver eyes flicked upward, as if she was in an elevator, as she listened to the drone of the dial tone.

Ayana visibly jumped in shock as her back pocket vibrated. Pachelbel's Canon in D pealed from her rear end.

Despite the white-hot rage that boiled and bubbled within her, Madoka smiled dangerously as she closed her phone. Pachelbel ended abruptly, a ghastly precursor to what would happen to the drummer now that her copper-haired friend's anger was aroused. Ayana backed away from the slowly advancing Madoka.

"In the immortal words of Brutus," the redhead snarled once she had Ayana cornered. She snatched the coal-haired girl by her shirt collar: "Speak hands for me." Shakespearean for "I'm going to kill you."

What ensued was a crazy chase round the backstage room. Madoka and Ayana circled and feinted about the shabby couch. The pursuit ended when Madoka, giving an uncharacteristic and almost animal-like roar, dove over the back of the sofa and brought the drummer down on the coffee table in a flying tackle.

"Okay, ya know what," Hitomi yawned. "We found Aya-chan's cell phone. Let's go. I'm bushed."

"Good idea," Chiharu assented, also yawning. Yawning has a pandemic way of spreading; soon Mio and Ritsu found themselves yawning. The keyboardist smiled at them. "Good seeing you guys again. I look forward to seeing you next Saturday."

Mio both hoped and feared this bet of hers and Ritsu's would remain unsolved when Madoka cautioned Chiharu: "Watch your step, ojou-sama."


	21. Three Simple Words

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Three Simple Words**

Azusa tried to keep herself from leaning too heavily on Yui, but the senpai didn't seem to mind either way. The two of them traipsed the sidewalks of their hometown toward the Nakano residence. The moon waxed full, giving everything startling silvery clarity. By day, Azusa thought, her neighborhood was like any other; but by night it resembled a monochromatic acrylic painting. Everything had a sharp contrast: brightly lit on one side, deeply shadowed on the other. Objects had a unique sense of mass; grass stalks seemed as sturdy as marble pillars.

"The moon's so pretty," Yui chirped. Her voice didn't belay one note of exhaustion, yet Azusa knew the moment her head touched a pillow she would pass out into one of her Yui-comas. The kouhai smiled.

"They say the moon inspires insanity," she said conversationally. "The English word 'lunacy' comes from the Latin _lunaticus _— which means 'moon sickness.'"

"Your English is so cute, Azu-nyan," the older girl giggled. "Though I didn't understand any of those words you used."

It was then that Azusa let her head drop to Yui's shoulder. Her girlfriend put her arm around her, supporting her whilst she trundled drowsily along. Whether Azusa fell asleep or not she was not sure of. She was only aware of eons of time slipping by in a few slumberous minutes. When she lifted her heavy, sleep-clogged head off Yui's shoulder to look up at her, she found her girlfriend in a pleasant, tranced-out state; eyes glazed, cheeks pink. Azusa could guess what she was thinking about. It was that guess that prompted her to hook her arm around Yui's waist. She wouldn't ordinarily do this sort of thing in public, but she knew they were safe under the night's cloak.

A few moments later Azusa abruptly pulled Yui to a stop before the Nakano driveway.

"You almost dragged me past my house," she accused.

"Azu-nyan was ready to walk past, too," Yui muttered.

"I w-was not!" Azusa spluttered, flustered. "And stop referring to me in the third person!"

"But your name is so cute…"

_Cute, bah, _the pigtailed girl snorted inwardly, sounding like a Japanese Scrooge, as she led the giggling Yui up to the front porch. _What am I, a cupie doll?_

The porch light was the only trace of gold in the silver moonlight world. Moths pelted it relentlessly, turning the light into a natural disco ball. Azusa frowned at the moths, thinking how late it was for them to still be out when she realized…

"You've got a birthday coming up," she said, turning back to Yui.

The older girl paused before grinning. "I do. In twenty days." She snatched Azusa up in a crushing hug, nuzzling her cheek. "Are you getting me a present, Azu-nyan?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you something…Now put me down!"

Yui brought Azusa back down to her feet, but didn't release her from her embrace. The kouhai rested her arms about Yui's neck, leaning into her a bit. As she listened to the senpai's breathing, she got fed up with herself. Fed up with her aversion to love. No public displays of affection, stop hugging me, don't call me cute like that — it was all crap, and it made Azusa sound like a _C U N_ext _T_uesday. _Who am I to deny Yui-senpai like this? Admit it, she's made you happier than you've been…ever. Go on, admit it._

Azusa felt a familiar nervous energy in her arms. She hadn't felt this way since Halloween.

As if sensing her girlfriend's cark, Yui murmured, "What are you thinking about, Azu-nyan?"

"I just…" The senpai relaxed her grip, allowing Azusa to pull back. The pigtailed girl dragged the back of her hand tenderly along Yui's jaw as she muttered, "I was thinking…about how happy you make me." She would have asked Yui how happy she made her, but decided there was no questioning that.

Suddenly the kouhai was aware, like a florid smell pervading muggy summer air, of that intoxicating lilac scent assailing her nose. Oh God, Yui's smell. How provocative it was! Now Azusa really couldn't deny her feelings for her favorite senpai. She stopped stroking her face and cupped it as she leaned in for a kiss. Yui intercepted her girlfriend's motions by wrapping her arms more tightly about her waist. She pressed Azusa close to her chest, like the younger girl was something infinitely precious to her, and gently covered her thin but plump lips in a slow, reverent kiss. They kissed three times, not seeing the aurulent porch light, yet they basked in its glow, as well as a rosy glow of their own.

"Oh, Yui," Azusa breathed. They weren't kissing now, but Yui gently held the swart-haired girl's lower lip between her own whilst she caught her breath. Azusa was now rubbing her palm against her girlfriend's cheek. She loved Yui. She loved everything about her. She loved her charmingly easygoing manner, her acceptance of things the way they were, and her openheartedness and cheerful honesty. She loved the sound of her voice, the barrettes she wore in her hair, but most of all the smell of her skin. If Azusa was a cat, then Yui was catnip to her: addictive, and with such a tantalizing scent. The kouhai found herself crushing her face against Yui's. She could practically taste lilacs in her mouth and throat.

Yui's body didn't stiffen or lock up. But her soprano voice did sound awkward as she chuckled, "Azu-nyan, you're kinda…"

"Hang on…I gotta…" Azusa froze mid-nuzzle. Cold sweat snaked down beside her eye, chilling in the autumn midnight. _Oh my God! I'm all over her! _Breathless with horror, she tore herself away from Yui, her lungs aching for more of her heady fragrance. She was so ashamed of her ardency that she couldn't even face her. The kouhai's shame felt hollow yet leaden in her heart. "I-I have self-control," she stuttered, assuring both Yui and herself. "I'm not an animal…I've got a brain…"

The older girl was bent forward with laughter that was not mean or mocking, but genial and hearty. She stared at her hands from which Azusa had somehow escaped and giggled. Humming her girlfriend's name amid peals of mirth, Yui brought her arms around her small shoulders, hugging her the way she used to when they first met. A moment later Azusa's shaking ceased and her jaw unclenched. It was a warm embrace, but not carnal — one of those artful, sexless moments. The younger girl kind of forgot why she was so embarrassed by how foolish she had been earlier. Sighing, she pressed a caressing hand to Yui's forearm, knowing this would be an unforgettable moment for her.

The moment was truly unforgettable when Yui turned Azusa around so their lips just touched, whispered, "I love you, Azu-nyan," and punctuated the declaration with a sensual kiss.

There it was, the thing Azusa had tried once to tell Yui, and Yui had just flawlessly told her. The kiss was like a signature on the contract of love. The pigtailed girl tilted her head to plant another kiss on her girlfriend's full lips, buying extra time to figure out how she should answer this.

When Yui pulled back her brown eyes smouldered in the gold and silver light. Azusa knew that, like any sane person, she wanted a response.

"Same here." The instant Azusa said that she regretted it.

Yui's smile never wavered as they kissed a few more times. Azusa wanted to hit herself over the head with a shovel. _Why, why, why did I say that? I was supposed to say 'I love you, too,' and what did I say? 'Same here.' God, I'm such a retard. _The kouhai groaned for reasons unrelated to kissing.

"Easy there," Yui teased as they pulled back. "I've got a brain, you know."

Azusa lightly smacked her girlfriend's arm.

"Do you want to stay the night?" The ebony-haired girl thought this might make up for her obvious inability to say _I love you. _"I mean, your house is really far away."

The senpai turned her dust-colored eyes upward as she considered the offer, and that worried Azusa. If Yui really wanted to sleep over, she would say yes, regardless of the consequences. The kouhai's apprehension bordered on panic when Yui said, "No, thanks. You have to be up early tomorrow, and I'd just be in the way."

_She's mad at me! She's mad because I didn't say 'I love you'! _None of the Light Music Club members had ever seen Yui get angry, but what other explanation was there? Yui never thought in terms of what could happen. Azusa was sure that this was a flimsy lie covering that she didn't want to be around the kouhai right now.

Azusa had officially entered panic.

The worst part was that she really did love Yui. But because she couldn't say it, everything between them was going to be ruined. What was wrong with her? Did she have a mental illness that prevented her from expressing love? Caritaphobia. That was a real irrational fear, wasn't it? Everyone else could say 'I love you.' Her parents said it to each other all the time. Sometimes after band practice she overheard Sawako and Mugi saying it to each other. And she had no doubt Mio and Ritsu said it. All around Azusa the words 'I love you' were flying out of people's mouths. And she just could not say it, no matter how much she meant it.

And really, Azusa couldn't blame Yui for being suspicious. This was the second time she hadn't said 'I love you.' The first time was probably pardoned due to nervousness. Now Yui was probably wondering if Azusa really loved her at all.

Yui started to descend the one step off the porch. Flustered, Azusa cried, "Yui-senpai!"

A little startled, Yui turned around. Above her Azusa stood rigidly, her shoulders up to her neck. Her small hands anxiously clutched the hem of her skirt like a grade schooler would. Her maroon eyes were wide with fright. Behind her the porch's jaune light splayed and scattered around her, like a holy glow.

"Yui-senpai," the kouhai exclaimed, "I…I…" She fell silent, quivering violently, her breath shaky and shallow-sounding. She wanted to say it.

Yui's smile was brighter and more golden than the porch light. "I love you, too."

Azusa exhaled and let Yui head back home. She lingered by the door, watching her girlfriend stretch her arms behind her head at the end of the driveway. Her silhouette was nothing more than an obscure shadow in the moonlight. So Yui knew at least that Azusa loved her. She wasn't angry. That was what the kouhai wanted, wasn't it?

It wasn't. More than anything Azusa really wanted to say it.

* * *

><p>It was dark in her room, as dark as it gets, when Azusa's mother shook her awake. The only light that permeated through the inky pre-winter blackness came from the hallway outside her door and the piercing ruby numbers of her digital clock which told her it was 05:14. <em>Five hours' sleep…<em>That was the first thought Azusa had, and it made quite the journey to emerge from her slumber-fogged conscious. Her head dropped back to her pillow.

Mrs. Nakano clicked on the nightstand lamp. Pink light dazzled Azusa's closed eyes and, moaning, she threw an arm over them.

"C'mon, up and at 'em." Her mother's voice sounded odd, like she was trying not to laugh. "You've got your root canal today."

Azusa lowered her arm and squinted at her mom. Mrs. Nakano had a hand over her mouth, obviously trying to hide a smile. She was the one who had described every gruesome detail of a root canal, so the noir-haired kouhai wondered what she was laughing about. Azusa sat up and realized she had gone to bed in her uniform with her hair still up. Oh.

"I'm not glad that I'll have to take your uniform to the drycleaners," Mrs. Nakano admonished whilst her daughter threw together an outfit from her chest of drawers, "but I sure hope you had fun sleeping in it."

"I'll take care of it," Azusa groggily promised, trudging over to the bathroom.

Sometimes a shower could really be her worst enemy. The warm water just made her drowsier. Usually she was all business in the shower and it was just the process of washing her lengthy hair that kept her in there long. Now she just lingered between washing and conditioning, lavishing the cozy, relaxing spray. Eventually Mrs. Nakano pounded on the door and ordered her daughter out of there. When Azusa emerged from the bathroom, her shiny hair plastered to her Micky Mouse sweater from when she was eleven, her mother scolded her about using up the hot water, save some for your father, the poor man deserves a warm shower, too, doesn't he? The guitarist nodded and responded automatically. It was still pitch-black outside. This all felt like a dream.

She got a little shut-eye in the car on the way to the hospital. Her mother, whose name was Mitsuki, grunted, wishing she could fall asleep as easily. Azusa had gotten that from her father. Mitsuki remembered how in high school she would come upon Hikaru napping in the most random places. Usually he had his guitar strapped around him. _That must be nice, _she thought wistfully, _to fall asleep so easily._

"Why are you…?" Azusa's sleep-talk trailed off into muffled babble. Mitsuki glanced at her daughter. Azusa was still snoozing, though her eyebrows were lowered in a glare. She remained quiet and still for the next fifteen minutes. Then she shifted in her sleep so she laid (sat?) on her side, arms outstretched in front of her. Most of what she said was gibberish which reminded Mitsuki of when she was a babbling, cooing infant, outspoken in her own baby way. Azusa said something like, "Take me…" The rest was indecipherable. Then she said, loud and clear, "I love you."

Mitsuki sucked in her breath, her brown eyes focused on the road. Now it was official. Her daughter was really in love with someone. She ran through some of the boys Azusa hung out with, trying to see if she could gauge which one had stolen her daughter's heart. It was a short list, considering most of Azusa's friends were girls. Mitsuki's best guess was Sakamoto Takao, a shy boy whom Azusa had palled around with since primary school…Or he was the boy Mitsuki hoped Azusa was in love with. The other guys were good friends to her, but the woman doubted they would be good boyfriends.

_Take me. _Mitsuki sweat-dropped as she left the highway. _Don't tell me Azusa's having…that kind of dream. _The dark-haired woman tried to calm herself by reminding herself of two things: one, Azusa couldn't help what she dreamed. And two, sex dreams weren't really about sex.

Mitsuki had to once again wake her daughter once they arrived at Hana to Kokoro Hospital, where Dr. Ootsuka, the family's go-to oral surgeon, earned his living. Azusa hadn't been here in over ten years.

In the elevator she told her mom a bit about the dream she had. In it Azusa and Yui were cornered in an alleyway by goons with switchblades. The kouhai ordered Yui to call the police. The elder girl complied, dialing 911 on her cell phone, and then she handed the phone to Azusa, who had yelled, "Why are you handing _me _the phone?" Mrs. Nakano observed, "Your friend seems very dependent of you." Azusa snorted in agreement. What she hadn't told her mother was the fragment of her dream in which she was trying to tell Yui she loved her. She said the words over and over, but Yui kept laughing and telling her how cute she was. Azusa remembered yelling, "Take me seriously!" but Yui just laughed. The pigtailed girl's frustration was so consuming she wanted to punch Yui. But she was rooted where she stood, paralyzed.

In the waiting room Azusa realized that fragment represented a role reversal. In the parallel world of dreams she could say 'I love you' as easily as Yui could say it in the real world. She had wanted her girlfriend to say it back to her, but she would not. And, Azusa suspected, this was what was going on between them, in reverse. _Maybe it's me who's not taking Yui-senpai seriously._

* * *

><p>Around noon Mitsuki dragged a still-woozy Azusa into the house. They found Hikaru in the den, lazily strumming his guitar and using his foot to turn the pages of his tab-book on the coffee table. Azusa extended a hand toward the guitar, quietly requesting it through a mouthful of cotton balls. The right side of her face was mottled mauve. Her father hesitantly passed her his guitar.<p>

Her garnet eyes dull from the anesthetic and her face numb from the novocaine, Azusa clutched the instrument with both hands by the neck, the headstock teetering just inches from her face. The coal-haired kouhai murmured, "Strummin' on old man Joe," and rapped the guitar lightly against her head.

Her father took the guitar back from her.

After Mitsuki got Azusa down for a nap (a task she hadn't done since her daughter was four), she came strolling back into the living room. Hikaru was skimming through his new tab-book, purchased for just ninety yen at Goodwill, with his foot. He was looking for either a new song or a song he hadn't played in a really long time. He was a small man with black hair that he let flop forward on his forehead.

"In the car Azusa said 'I love you,'" Mitsuki announced.

"Aw, that's sweet," Hikaru murmured in his gruff tenor voice.

"…in her sleep," Mitsuki added.

Hikaru's foot froze. "I think I may need more information."

And Mitsuki was only too happy to give it to him. She sat herself beside him on the sofa. He closed his tab-book and inclined himself toward her. "I was driving her to Ootsuka, and she was asleep, and she said 'Take me' and 'I love you.'" Hikaru grimaced and his face flushed. His wife continued, regardless, "That means she does have a boyfriend! Or someone she likes! Do you think I should talk to her about this?"

Hikaru lowered his chin and peered at her from under heavily-lashed eyelids. "D-didn't you…already talk to her about this?"

Mitsuki nodded and waved a small hand. "Yeah. But back then she didn't have a boyfriend. Or someone she likes. If it's the former, I want to be sure she's being safe…"

Now his face was tomato-red. Trembling uncontrollably, he ranted, "Oi! What makes you think I want to hear that? All I want to know is who she's dating and if he treats her alright." Mitsuki giggled at his humiliation, and he turned away. "Jeez!"

"Hi-ka-ru," she sang. "Does someone need a hug?"

He held his head up stiffly, jaw rigid, as though he was balancing something upon it. "You and your — no, I don't want a hug!"

He gasped as he felt her arms close gently around his neck, her breasts so soft and provocative against his back. Her nose and lips brushed against his right ear as she teased, "I didn't ask if you _wanted _a hug, silly Naka-Hika. I asked if you needed a hug."

_I've got the feeling she's going to give me more than just a hug…_Hikaru gulped. She was pressed close to him and pressing closer. He laid aside his guitar. As soon as he turned toward her, she gently pushed him down onto his back. Her mouth found his in the warmly-lit living room, her hands pushing up his sweater and worming under the shirt beneath, her body curving into all his parts and places. Hikaru realized that the last time they fucked was when Mitsuki was pregnant; she was twenty-three, and he was twenty-two. That was an awfully young age to swear off sex for the next decade-and-a-half.

"Are…you sure she's asleep?" he gasped between kisses, suppressing moans and groans as she gyrated slowly in his lap.

"She's not a baby. If she wakes up and hears us, she'll deal." Mitsuki drew in a shaky breath as she felt Hikaru's boner pressing against the most sensitive part of her. His face was so red even his forehead was flushed. Crimson is the color of passion, and right now the most erotic zeal smouldered in his almond-shaped erubescent eyes. He squinted, his pupils dilating, which Mitsuki found oddly hot. She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips along the bridge of his nose. "Just use your inside voice. If you can."

Nostalgia washed over Hikaru as they made love that afternoon (and, fortunately, not another baby). It reminded him of high school, when "Let's watch a movie" meant "Let's pork on the couch." He locked eyes with the funny, easygoing woman who was more than just his wife, and realized that her eyes were the same ones he had locked his on in 1987, in 1990, in 1993. Thirty-eight-year-old Nakano Hikaru could look into her eyes now and be fifteen again, nineteen, twenty-two. It brought him more bliss than he ever thought possible for his life as a husband and a father.

Just thank God the anesthetic kept Azusa from waking up.

* * *

><p>AN

For the record, Hikaru and Mitsuki did not do it in front of Azusa. Azusa was in the other room, sleeping. Tho' she could've woken up at any time and left her room to walk in on them fucking.


	22. Meet the Parents

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Meet the Parents**

The weather that day was exceptionally wintry. The sky was overcast, but pale, as it looks before it snows. Several people's lawns already looked bald and colorless. The trees were stark and just ghastly-looking. The home the other four Light Music Club members surveyed from the base of its driveway appeared far from ghastly. It actually seemed to be the sole flame of life in the land of death.

"So this is where Azu-nyan hangs her blazer," Ritsu murmured. She checked the maildrop, satisfied it said 'Nakano' on it. She turned to Yui. "Your directions to her house were actually correct and, uh, direct. I'm impressed."

"Did you expect anything less from me?" Yui pouted.

Ritsu turned an about-face to look at Mio and Mugi. "Have we got everything? The card?"

Mio gestured at the keyboardist. "Mugi brought it."

Smiling, Mugi held up her gloved right hand which clutched a pink envelope. "You know how they say Hallmark makes a card for every occasion?" She patted the envelope with her left hand. "What do you want to bet?"

"I'm done making bets," Mio grumbled.

"That reminds me," Ritsu exclaimed, edging towards her girlfriend with a sinister glint in her darkening eyes. "You owe me two thousand yen!"

"I said I'd get it to you!" Mio ground her teeth furiously. First Chiharu had thrown her by the wayside to avoid Mrs. Abe. Now because of her the bassist owed someone an exorbitant amount of money.

"Mio-chan," Yui spoke up, "did you remember the ice cream?"

The raven-haired girl held up the pint of ice cream, their I'm-sorry-you-got-your-tooth-ripped-open present for Azusa. The kouhai's favorite ice cream place was a private-owned business rather than one of those worldwide chains like Dairy Queen or Baskin Robbins. During the fall and winter, however, business was scarce to non-existent at this place. The manager had worked on her lonesome today; when Mio popped in to purchase dulce de leche ice cream, she looked at the bassist like she had two heads.

"Then we're ready!" Yui cheered, heading up the driveway. "To Azu-nyan's house we go!"

The four of them headed up the driveway. Yui and Ritsu took the porch, whilst Mio and Mugi politely stood behind on the walkway, as the guitarist rang the doorbell. There was no immediate response. Ritsu snickered, "Ne, ne. What do you suppose her parents are like?"

"I imagine they're pretty strict," Yui admitted.

"_I _imagine they're those parents who take everything away from you if your grade slips a point." Ritsu made her voice whiny — her interpretation of what Azusa's mom would be like: "'We're boarding up the window, Azusa. You can have sunlight again when you bring your English grade up.'"

Her eyebrows knitted with worry, Mugi looked up. She was relieved to find no boarded windows on the second floor.

Ritsu pushed the doorbell. "Are you sure her appointment wasn't in the afternoon?"

Yui nodded. "She told me hers was the first thing scheduled today for her oral surgeon."

The door was thrown open then to reveal a man of maybe Mio's height, maybe taller. His raven hair was in resemblance to a bird's nest, his sweater a little bit rumpled. Mugi looked at him and feared they had caught Azusa's father napping.

"Ah! He looks just like Azu-nyan!" Yui half-gasped, half-squealed.

"Um, excuse us," Ritsu spoke, reverting to more polite, feminine speech. "We're friends of Azu-ny— I mean, Azusa-chan. She asked us to visit her after her root canal."

Mr. Nakano squinted and nodded. "Well, Azusa's asleep now…but come on in, anyways." He stepped aside to admit the four of them. "My wife and I just got some coffee brewing. Would any of you care for a cup?"

All of them save for Ritsu declined.

Yui stared about the house in interest. For some reason she always felt cold whenever entering someone else's house. Azusa's had a distinctly more barren quality to it than hers or Nodoka's (if Yui had to say it was more like one or the other, though, she would say it was more like Nodoka's). She removed her shoes and followed the others through the living room (which smelled odd for some reason) into the kitchen.

From the laundry room adjoining the garage which adjoined the kitchen emerged a medium-heighted, good-looking woman with dark brown hair and hooded brown eyes. She bore a basket laden with, strangely, throw blankets and pillows pertaining to the couch in the living room, which she was planning on setting out to dry. She was about to ask her husband about the weather when she saw the four unfamiliar faces. "Oh my, who're they?" she asked, her voice bouncy.

"They're ours, remember?" Mr. Nakano joked.

Mrs. Nakano placed a hand to her forehead, dumbstruck. "How long have I been asleep?" She quickly assessed that these were classmates of Azusa's, and she went about her business.

Mio rolled her eyes at the cutesy voice Ritsu used in thanking Mr. Nakano for the cup of coffee. _If only he knew she only uses that voice when things are going her way. _Nonplussed about the opaque heat steaming out of the mug, the drummer took an eager sip.

"Gyuhh!" she gagged, coughing a little. Hikaru froze in the middle of seating himself at the practically doll-sized round table and fixed his garnet eyes on her retching silhouette. "Arigatougozaimashita," she said again, sounding a lot less cute. The coffee the Nakano bunch drank was Sanka-brand, and decaf to boot!

His eyes fell upon the ice cream pint in Mio's hand, and he smiled in recognition of his daughter's favorite flavor. "Golly, you brought ice cream for her? Such friends Azusa has. You can put that in the freezer there, if you please."

Ritsu raised a suspicious eyebrow. "She's…never mentioned us, has she?"

Mr. Nakano tilted his head, his own short eyebrows arced in a comical expression. His purring tenor voice had that I'm-sorry tone to it as he replied, "I've only heard her mention a Jun-san and an Ui-san."

"Ah! Ui is my sister," Yui supplied eagerly.

"That little wench!" Ritsu raged. She couldn't fathom why Azusa would never give any mention to their friendship. _And after all her ramblings about gee-isn't-it-nice-to-be-in-the-Light-Music-Club. Is she ashamed of us? _"What a brat! That lout-headed, knuckle-dragging, ungrateful — uh! I mean," she stammered, remembering she was in the company of Mr. Nakano. She changed her voice back to feminine speech with a sorrowful note. "I just thought she might be a little more grateful…for helping her try to get into Tokyo U."

"Ritsu!" Mio growled.

"Tokyo U?" Mr. Nakano gasped, his copper eyes wide and shiny. Tokyo University elicited the same reaction from him as a worldwide tour with the Pixies would elicit from Azusa. "My daughter in _Tokyo U? _MY DAUGHTER in Tokyo University!"

"That's right," Ritsu smiled. "She could skip her third year at Sakuragaoka and move on to the greatest school in Japan. Me," she sighed, "I got accepted into Tokyo U, but the prices for housing and books are too steep. I'm just hoping to experience it vicariously through Azusa-chan."

"_Ritsu!_" Mio hissed, her left hand clenched threateningly.

"Oh my God…" Now Hikaru's eyes were glazed as he pictured his little Azusa at Tokyo U. He didn't let his imagination stop there. He imagined her filing down with the other graduates, a blue silken Tokyo U tie draped over her shoulders, with the bagpipes playing. What if she graduated with high distinction? And imagine the job opportunities she would have! Hikaru shook his head in amazement. "I have no idea why she wouldn't tell us about this. But thank you! Thank you so very much!"

"Maybe Azusa-chan's just modest. People have told me before that I'm —_YEEEEOWCH!_" she cried as Mio stomped her heel into Ritsu's foot. All Tokyo U talk was extinguished from then on.

In a momentary blast of icy wind, the back door slid open, admitting Mrs. Nakano. Mitsuki's delicate frame heaved with dry gasps, her little hands crushed under her armpits, all color in her face rerouted exclusively to her nose, chin, and ears. She gave a falsetto _whoof! _and exclaimed, "Is it ever cold out there! Why, Hikaru, if you and me hadn't—" She stopped herself when she saw the four friends of Azusa still in the kitchen. "Never mind," she sang as blithely as she could.

Silence had its hold on them as Mrs. Nakano poured herself a cup of coffee. The silence stretched out save for the scrape of a chair as she seated herself next to her husband. Mitsuki worried she had just intruded on a private conversation — though for the life of her she couldn't imagine what private matters Hikaru had to discuss with these four perfect strangers. After sipping a bit of coffee, she said uncertainly, "You don't have to stop talking on my account."

Mio replied, "Oh, don't worry. You're not interrupting anything." _Bigger points, if it matters, _she thought.

"Oh," Mitsuki muttered into her mug.

Somehow the clock ticking over the entrance to the kitchen made the ever-lengthening hush among them all the more awkward. Mio felt like it was _they, _the Light Music Club members, who were intruding on them, Azusa's parents. Neither side attempted conversation. Mr. and Mrs. Nakano sipped their coffee sullenly, their postures stiff and uncomfortable. Ritsu had noticed the couch lining in the woman's laundry basket; maybe someone spilled a drink, or…

_Or… _She tried to conceal her horrified stare as she took in Hikaru's messy hair with new meaning.

Ritsu tried to abort her sickened _Ohh, God! _but instead it came out as a pathetic whimper. She threw her hand over her mouth. Neither Hikaru nor Mitsuki seemed to notice.

"Say," Mrs. Nakano spoke up just as the drummer was about to suggest leaving. Azusa's mother looked at the four girls with a glow of interest kindled in her brown eyes. "You're close friends of Azusa's, right?"

"Hai," Mugi smiled. She and Yui grinned amicably while Mio and Ritsu still appeared to be on their guard.

"Well…" Mitsuki's cheeks pinkened as she giggled sheepishly. "This might be weird of me to ask about, but…You wouldn't know if she's dating anybody, would you?"

Hikaru set down his coffee mug, prepared to yell at her about her nosiness. He couldn't help but notice, however, the look of recognition on the girls' faces — nay, the _fear _of recognition. So maybe Azusa _was _dating somebody and she wanted her friends to keep mum on this.

Mr. Nakano could feel the rusty spikes of a headache bursting in his temples. It was times like these where he didn't enjoy being a father. From the day his daughter was born, he risked being seen not as Mr. Rogers or even Steve. There was a plentitude of occasions for him to be seen as Father Flanagan. Then there was the confusing conundrum of fearing he might be a Father Flanagan and telling himself he wasn't. Those were two good enough reasons to butt out of Azusa's love life. But still he worried about her dating the right guy.

Mrs. Nakano also sensed the girls' change in mood and added, "Or, y'know, someone she's interested in…?"

Mugi's smile tightened. Even her eyes seemed pale with restrained fright. Mio stared at the ceramic tile floor, her bangs hiding her eyes. Ritsu stood rigidly, a knot of tension tightening between her shoulder blades.

"Yeah," Yui replied happily. "She and I are—"

Ritsu and Mio clapped their hands over her mouth, stifling the rest of what could have been a joyful announcement. The bassist, being a bit slower, missed and ended up whacking her hand against Yui's nose. A muffled "Itai!" hummed from under the drummer's hand.

"Pay her no mind." Ritsu's faulty excuse was a rushed blabber: "She's not in her right mind. Heheheh. Mio here probably switched her Ritalin with Zanax. Again. Just glad she didn't have an episodic reaction like last time. Don't you hate it when that happens?"

Hikaru and Mitsuki stared at her in horror.

Ritsu grabbed the back of Yui's denim jacket and pulled her toward the door. She nodded at Mugi, motioning for her to follow. "Perhaps we should get her to the doctor. Nice meeting you. Give Azu-nyan my regards."

* * *

><p>"Well, we can no longer show our faces here," Mio said, sighing, once they were outside. She shook out her left hand, knuckles red and smarting from the punch she dealt Ritsu. It was safe to say the top of her girlfriend's head wasn't freezing in the late-autumn chill.<p>

"Yui." The drummer grabbed Yui's shoulders and leveled her stern gaze into the guitarist's eyes. "You should not tell Azu-nyan's parents that you're dating. Leave that to her."

For a moment Yui looked confused and still a bit shaken from having her snoot smacked by Mio. Then she gave an understanding nod. It was Azusa's good news to tell, not Yui's. _It would be like if she got into Tokyo U and I announced it: inappropriate. _"But they asked," she pointed out.

Ritsu frowned. "Well, they shouldn't have." Turning, she strode down the sidewalk with the others following. On a cold day like today a pumpkin-spice latte from Starbucks would really hit the spot. "I guess some parents are overly concerned about their kids' dating lives." She flashed back to her mother's shocked face upon finding her only daughter kissing Mio on the front porch. For now there was peace, but ever since then Ritsu noticed her mom avoided speaking to her; when she did, she did not make eye contact. "Azu-nyan's parents might not like you two together," she added.

This Yui could not fathom no matter how hard she tried. She might have been a bit more careless than Azusa, yes, but she didn't consider herself a bad girlfriend. "Why?" she asked with a shameless curiosity common in small children.

Ritsu winced and beside her Mio's face was similarly pained. "I kinda feel like I'm about to tell a kid how babies are made," the drummer muttered.

Mio jumped in with: "Think of Romeo and Juliet. Some parents just have a…strict agenda," she chose her words carefully, "which they…enforce upon their children."

Yui took a pregnant pause. She thought of Romeo and Juliet. She thought of lovesick Juliet not being able to see impulsive Romeo because he was a Montague, and Capulets do not marry Montagues. She thought of how convincing Ritsu's acting was when she woke from her three-day death to find Mio with the poison vial and sobbed uncontrollably. All those thoughts settled heavily upon her features, and Ritsu and Mio breathed a sigh of relief, elated they would not have to explain this.

"So why does Azu-nyan's family hate mine?"

Mio and Ritsu almost fell through the ground. The former turned desperately to Mugi and stuttered, "W-would you like to spell this out, Mugi?"

The keyboardist beamed. She assented by raising a hand. "No problem, aside from my not understanding this either."

The look of agony was so intense on Ritsu's face, it appeared like it would crack. _She is European. Buncha liberals, I'll bet. Same-sex love is probably par for the course over there, I'll bet. _She scowled at Mugi and Yui, envious they had such easy lives while she and Mio had to skulk around out of fear of discovery.

"They might not like Azu-nyan dating a girl," Ritsu burst. She sighed as the pain subsided.

Now Yui's shock and interest was massive enough for two hundred curious children. Again her mouth fell open and she was only able to utter, "Whyyy?"

The drummer shook her head. "They just won't. They'll think it's wrong."

"Or dirty," Mio added soberly. "Or evil." _Sort of how Abe-sensei felt about me writing left-handed. _She shoved her left hand deep in her coat pocket and thought of her own parents. Of course they were interested in Mio's love life, or else her mother wouldn't have given her the boy talk in junior high. It wasn't her father she was worried about. He was easygoing. Her mother — the almost-barren therapist with great expectations for her only child — was the heavy. But, maybe that Mio was dating her childhood friend and an almost surrogate daughter to Mrs. Akiyama would make the whole lesbian thing less dirty and evil. That was a hope the bassist was banking heavily upon.

"What's wrong or dirty or evil about it?" Yui asked. "I thought being in love was a good thing." Mugi fervently nodded her agreement.

_You're dating our homeroom teacher, _Mio thought, squinting at the keyboardist, _so wouldn't it make sense to you that some love is not okay? _"It is a good thing, but…" Now Mio felt like she was about to tell a kid how babies are made. What Yui said — how do you reply to that? "Watch _Brokeback Mountain. _Then you'll understand."

"Or _South of Nowhere,_" Ritsu added. "Some people are just not okay with homosexuality."

* * *

><p>Ui poked a fork into the simmering pot of pasta, checking to see how done it was. Nothing was worse than gum-soft penne rigate noodles (though Yui complained once that underdone pasta made her face hurt). The Hirasawas weren't into Western food, but with winter speeding in like greased lightning Ui decided tonight called for a pasta recipe she had — lemony with asparagus and a little too much cheese. There was no better time for comfort food than winter.<p>

"How do you think Mom and Dad feel about homosexuality?"

Ui blinked and looked up in surprise. Yui sat cross-legged on the floor, Gitah's headstock nestled between her thigh and chest. Her bare, unamplified strumming slowed as she awaited a response.

"Are you asking _me _this?" Ui inquired perplexedly.

The strumming stopped long enough for her older sister to nod.

_Of course she is. Who else would she ask? Gitah? _It was moments like these where Ui was grateful for Yui's disinclination toward sarcasm.

"I don't think they care," the ponytailed girl stated simply, poking the pasta again.

Yui looked up from Gitah, studying her little sister's face, which bore a hard expression. Ever since she was nine, Ui displayed a bit of resentment towards their parents for staying away in Europe. It was the one conflict in the guitarist's life that she could look at with an uncharacteristic amount of perspective.

"I'm sure they have some opinion of it."

"Maybe," Ui grunted, stabbing the penne. She felt sorry that these noodles had to bear her spleen, but she kept jabbing. "Are you thinking of telling them about Azusa-chan?"

Yui smiled at Gitah, whose fiery hue reflected the passions ignited in her from just hearing the kouhai's name. Society really demanded that such happiness not be allowed to certain people?

Her coyness was enough of an answer for Ui, who was wondering what all this conscientiousness was about. Did Azusa really have her hooks in so deep that she was sucking out Yui's exuberance? "Well, they're never here, so they shouldn't have any objection to who you date," the younger sister concluded, switching off the burner. "That reminds me: they're running awfully late on this month's allowance."

Every month Mr. and Mrs. Hirasawa sent a check to their daughters to cover food, bills, and other necessities.

Yui set aside Gitah, and dinner commenced in earnest. The conversation shifted over multiple topics like grains of sand on a blond coast: the fast progression from fall to winter, that time when they were little and Ui and Nodoka had to grease Yui's head to unlodge it from between the stair bars, the performance at Hair.

"Nodoka-chan said she got offered a job there," said Yui.

Ui nodded assent, giggling at the memory. "Sawako-sensei's cousin is something else. She offered Nodoka-chan one thousand two hundred yen an hour to serve food as a cat-eared meganekko in a maid outfit."

"One thousand two hundred?" the older sister gasped. The penne scraped her throat, and she began to cough violently. With a panicked cry of "Oneechan!" Ui scrabbled around the table to Heimlich Yui. Once the confounded noodle was dislodged Yui cried, "Why didn't she take the job?"

"Please try to eat more carefully," Ui whimpered, still holding her sister by the waist. Yui was so soft and warm. Reluctantly releasing her, the ponytailed girl added, "Yokohama's awfully far to go to work." She neglected to add that Nodoka had been the focus of unwanted female flirtation, that one woman had seized her by the waist of her jeans and greeted her with, "How would you like to lose your virginity tonight?"

"You weren't there afterward," Yui remarked.

Ui hesitated over her plate. "Yes…Well…" She shoved a forkload of pasta in her mouth, buying time by chewing it slowly. She felt like the guy in the Twix commercials. She had promised Jun she would remain tight-lipped on her feelings for Azusa. But she hated lying, especially to Yui. With their parent gallivanting and spending euros, Yui was all the family Ui had.

Fortunately Yui's attention span didn't hold out long enough for Ui to explain. The pasta just smelled too damn good, and in cold weather like tonight the hotter the food the better. So the older girl dug into her dinner, dropping the matter.

After she finished eating, Ui leaned back a little, letting the meal settle in. It was either the lull of a full stomach or the lull of the furnace, but something relaxing prompted her to say, "I'm going to tell you why I was out, oneechan, but you can't tell a soul."

Yui paused over her plate, the heavy silence broken by the pasta falling from her fork. Her eyes were wide and shiny. "Not even Mom and Dad?" she queried in an undertone, as if the walls had ears.

After a moment's consideration, Ui decided, "Not even Mom and Dad." In truth the whole Jun and Azusa thing didn't apply to them, but she wanted to emphasize how super-secret this was to her sister.

Yui made a hammy gesture of locking up her mouth and throwing away the key, which Ui found both hilarious and adorable. Then she leaned in, eager to be in on this dishy secret.

A little haltingly, Ui relayed the events following last night's performance. She had Yui sworn to secrecy, so that wasn't her chief concern (though perhaps Yui would inadvertently blab). No, the ponytailed girl was worried about her reaction to someone else taking a fancy toward her girlfriend. In the worst-case scenario, this information would put a serious strain on Yui's and Azusa's relationship. They could even break up.

_Oneechan would be crushed if that happened. _Ui faltered mid-sentence and blinked back the wave of emotion that reached up her throat. Suddenly she wished she wasn't telling Yui about this. But now she had to. _If that happens, _she thought, glaring at her hands tensed to the point of resembling claws on her lap, _then I have to do everything in my power to see that they get back together._

"Oneechan." Ui forced herself to look her older sister right in the eye. "Jun-chan told me she loves Azusa-chan."

It took but a single moment for this to sink in for Yui. Then she gasped. Her jaw dropped and her eyes shone. "Really?" she said. Then she brought her hands to her cheeks. "How cute! I mean, Azu-nyan's extremely adorable, so no wonder Jun-chan fell for her." Yui grinned and rubbed her chin. "Yep, I was right all along. I know a cute girl when I see her."

Ui stared blankly at Yui, her hands relaxing. _And she treats it like it's her moment of pride? _Somehow she found words and constructed them into coherent sentences. "You're not…upset?"

"Why should I be?" the older girl asked openly.

Ui glanced aside and shrugged. "If it were me, I'd get pretty, well…jealous." She would have laughed if only it were appropriate to the situation. A week ago she had insisted that she never got jealous. _I sounded so high and mighty back then, didn't I? _Shame stung her cheeks.

Smiling widely, Yui shook her head. "I've no need to be jealous. I know Azu-nyan loves me." Her smile dropped and she stared sorrowfully at her empty plate. "I feel pretty bad for Jun-chan, though…"

Ui blinked. Well, if that wasn't security, then what was? She could see now how profoundly her sister trusted Azusa. But no matter how she looked at it, no matter how blissfully in love Yui was, Ui could not reconcile herself to this; not with her jealousy-rotted heart insisting: _Nobody loves oneechan more than me._


	23. Kotatsu Complications

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Kotatsu Complications**

Yui gasped, hesitating on the creaky rowan branch. This neighborhood, unlike her own, had a very old-fashioned quality to it. The Taika Reformation far behind this tree which the guitarist now crouched in, it groaned at her gentlest movements. A plume of air burst from her mouth as she exhaled in relief, and continued climbing. Above her, the stars trailed on their set paths, the only steady things in a universe of instability.

Yui knew this was foolhardy, even for herself. The danger aside, people just didn't show up outside each other's windows in the middle of the night. But Yui needed to see Azusa, to talk to her. They hadn't seen each other all day.

_After all this, I hope she's awake, _she thought as another branch threatened to drop her into the Nakanos' front yard.

Fortunately, Azusa was awake. A soft, incandescent light glowed from her window, revealing the kouhai seated at her kotatsu, her nose in a book. Yui hissed in sympathetic pain upon viewing the deep purple bruise that blotted her face. Despite that, Azusa's eyes seemed vibrant, possibly in response to the events transpiring in her book.

Yui shinnied farther along the branch, pausing with every creak. Then she slowly extended her right hand, the bough protesting the sudden shift of weight, and rapped it against the window. Azusa jumped, her book flying out of her small hands. A look of terror ruled her face as she looked up, only to give way to curiosity when she saw her girlfriend clinging to the untrustworthy tree. Slowly pulling herself from the kotatsu's warmth, she made her way to the window, which she unlatched and threw open.

"You're not gonna read me a poem, are you?" she joked, suppressing shivers.

Yui, who had been shivering since she left her house, took the joke in earnest. "I'm not much of a poet. Sorries."

"No. I mean, in romantic novels they always…Oh, never mind." Azusa sighed. "C'mon in." She put her hand out to help Yui into her room. Once her girlfriend was in she pulled her window shut. Raising an eyebrow, the kouhai stared at the chipped paint on the frame, thinking that she hadn't opened that window since September.

Practically paralyzing shivers stiffened Yui's form as she took a few rigid steps further into her girlfriend's bedroom. Her fingers were strawberry-red and fixed in an uncomfortable, unbending position on her hands. When she exhaled on them it felt so good that it went around the bend and hurt.

_Is it really that cold out? In early November? _Azusa touched her chilly window with the tips of her fingers , then suddenly recalled Yui's sensitivity to things hot and cold.

"Okay, get under the kotatsu," she ordered in a whisper. "You look like you're gonna die."

Yui needed no second bidding. She shoved her legs under the table and pulled the blanket up to her chest. Pretty soon the shivers ebbed away until they were nothing but a knot of tension in the senpai's lower back; even that melted away in the kotatsu's welcoming warmth.

Azusa wordlessly joined her, seating herself so close to Yui that their legs touched, their hips. She felt so soft and gentle to the older girl, yet so warm. Azusa's hip sent a sharp but pleasant tingle up Yui's side.

"I didn't want you to come," the younger girl whispered, leaning her head against Yui's shoulder. Her obsidian hair was down and rippled sideways along her back with her head, like liquid onyx. Her hand found Yui's under the kotatsu. "But I'm glad you did."

Smiling, the senpai looked down at her girlfriend. In Azusa's garnet eyes Yui saw an uncharacteristic and copious amount of tenderness swelling, like gentle waves in a glass of red wine. She remembered the kouhai last night: kissing and nuzzling Yui with more enthusiasm to beat the band; standing in the porch light, eager but afraid to say what was plain as day in her eyes now.

"Oh, Azu-nyan," Yui murmured, tilting her head towards the kouhai's for a kiss.

Azusa tilted her head away. So Yui tilted her head the other way, but still the younger girl avoided her lips.

"Azu-nyaaan, not this agaaaaiiin," the senpai whined, bringing her arms around Azusa's waist to hold her in place. "We're in private. No one's watching."

"Keep your voice down!" Azusa hissed, tilting her face away from Yui's at the same time. "It's not that I don't want to. It's just that it hurts."

Yui stopped pursuing Azusa's lips long enough to really consider the bruise on her face. A dark magenta stain seeped and spread along the younger girl's jaw, constantly swirling, never still, like a painful Rorschach blot. The senpai shivered. What in the world did they do to her? Azusa's pretty face, tarnished, discolored, and lopsided. And how it must have hurt her! Yui's eyebrows lowered, darkening her visage in its own respect, as she considered finding her girlfriend's oral surgeon and confronting him. _But…what if he goes and bruises me? _Yui looked once more at the contusion and discarded that idea.

Instead she brought a hand to Azusa's shoulder and planted a heavy kiss upon her unbruised cheek. The kouhai flinched, as if expecting pain, and her copper eyes snapped open when none came. It occurred to her that never had she ever been kissed on the cheek.

"S-senpai," Azusa gasped. Cold air brushed the wetness upon her face, yet warm blood suffused her cheeks, bringing out the rufous qualities of her bruise. She dipped her head demurely, peering at Yui from under long eyelashes, and grasped her arm. "I…I have something I need to say to you."

"I do, too," the senpai said in an unusually serious voice. Surprised, Azusa looked up to find her normally cheery girlfriend frowning with a sort of grave sorrow in her eyes. "You go first, though."

The kouhai swallowed, more worried about what Yui could have to say than she had to. "Um…Well, I've wanted to say it for a…long time now." Every second crawled by, as if the two of them were co-starring in that Urashima Taro fairytale, and Azusa's jaw began to ache on its own accord. "And I've certainly felt this way for even longer…Oh, good grief," she gasped, realizing that she hadn't breathed at all for the past minute. Was this going to be Halloween, redux?

"I meant to tell you when we were watching _Beowulf _the movie, but…" Azusa paused as dull pain throbbed on the right side of her face. Forcing herself to inhale, she continued in a rush, "…but it's hard, y'know?" She looked up at Yui with solid, intense eyes. "I've never felt this way before."

The throbbing intensified, almost blasting the poor girl's entire head with agony in tandem with the volcanic pounding of her heart. Azusa now felt like she could understand the figure of speech: "Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

"I tried to tell you last night, but something just…" Her eyes screwed tight from an overload of emotional distraught and physical anguish, and Azusa let her head fall forward against Yui's chest. Her slight frame trembled. For sure she was breathing, but the heavy breaths the senpai heard from the kouhai weren't dry, but wet.

"I'm sorry," Azusa choked. She took a few slow breaths to calm herself, but it did naught. "I'm really so immature, aren't I?" she sobbed shamefully. Her shaking lessened momentarily as she felt Yui's arms come around her shoulders. "I mean…What I mean is…I don't know. I just talk and yell about how childish you are, and I can't even…" _I can't even talk about saying 'I love you.' How screwed up is that?_

The conversation there paused for more than a few minutes, the silence only broken by the kouhai's muffled sobs. Azusa could feel Yui's palm pressed firmly on her back, rubbing, stirring the cotton of her shirt against her skin. The elder girl could feel her own breath struggling past the iron lump in her throat. Azusa didn't cry much, Yui knew, despite the magnitude of stress weighing on her. And now, after all this time, Yui understood her stressor, her desire to love and know that it was wrong.

"Anyways," Azusa murmured at length, once her voice was steady enough, "I'm tired of being that way. You deserve better than that."

Yui shook her head, silently denying this. _'That way' is the Azu-nyan I fell for. _She would have her girlfriend no other way.

The kouhai slowly lifted her head off Yui with a shuddering sigh. Her brain had exhausted its share of pain, thereby numbing the pounding in her head. Drying her eyes, she decided to get on with what she was saying, no matter how insufferable it was for her. _Because this is for Yui-senpai. It's no longer just about me. _There really was no right time to say this, no right place or right girl. Sometimes you just have to say what's in your heart.

"Yui…I love you."

She glanced aside, face reddening, letting it for the moment be about her again. Her breath caught in her parched, drug-flavored throat. She gulped a couple times, her racing heart protesting with a few nauseating palpitations. Her head was spinning. She dearly hoped she wouldn't vomit — that was the last thing she needed after this root canal. "That's what I wanted to say," she chokingly concluded, forcing her gaze forward.

She hardly had time to see the look on Yui's face, for the senpai threw herself face-forward against Azusa's chest. The kouhai inadvertently yelped, unable to check if either of her parents had heard. Yui had her pinned to the floor, her face mashed against her girlfriend's in a ferociously affectionate nuzzle. A joyous whimper vibrated her throat lightly. "Azu-nyan, I love you, too!" she burst ardently, not caring who heard. People could say what they wanted about Yui and Azusa and lesbians in general, but they could not stop them from loving each other.

"Ahh! My face!" Azusa began ranting in a rough undertone: "Keep it down! You want my parents to find you here? And stop that! You're crushing my face and it hurts!"

"Gomen, gomen," Yui giggled, pulling her face away. She remained half- on top of Azusa, running a caressing hand along her bare forearm, her other hand supporting her weight. _She's still the same Azu-nyan, _she thought warmly, thumbing her girlfriend's nose. The kouhai stared up at her through smoldering, hooded eyes, her silky ivory hair splayed about underneath her. The rubedity of her eyes made her glowing passions burn all the more hotly within them.

Even so, Azusa's heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her neck and wrists. All of Yui's parts and places sunk into hers — so light, slight, and gentle, and yet so sultry. Either way, it was feminine in a way that made Azusa feel feminine in the most indecent and absurd ways. Here they were, alone, in the middle of the night. Anything could happen.

"You always blush like crazy," Yui commented with another chuckle. "It's cute." If one half of her girlfriend's blushing face wasn't bruised the senpai would have kissed her with enough tenderness to suffuse the entire bedroom with the warmth of love.

"Yeah, well…" Azusa's breath snagged in her throat once more like a wind-blown plastic bag on a tree branch, and the concupiscible flames licking her chest and cheeks and ears felt a lot less pleasant. She urgently sat up, lightly wrestling Yui off in the process. "We shouldn't be laying here like this."

Yui cocked her head. "Why not?"

The younger girl shuddered, preferring not to say why not. Instead she changed the subject: "What was it you had to tell me?" It must have been totally dire to impart, if the somber expression on Yui's face was anything to judge by.

And that cheerless look returned to the brunette's normally vibrant features, paling them like a lightbulb that has been switched off. "…It's nothing," she mumbled, her chestnut eyes focused on her hands clasped in her lap.

"C'mon, Yui." Azusa tilted her head so her copper eyes met her girlfriend's. "It's not like you to be this secretive."

The elder guitarist sighed. "I've just been thinking today…"

Azusa nodded, prompting Yui to continue. But the senpai had fallen silent once more and showed no obvious signs of going on. The kougai prodded, "What were you thinking about?"

"You…" Yui's voice trailed off uncertainly, uptilting a bit at the end, as if she didn't know how to finish the sentence. She took another pensive but brief pause. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't know how to say it…"

Azusa sunk into a thoughtfulness of her own. Her small head dipped until her chin was tapping her collarbone. She understood what it was like, not knowing how to say things. She just never expected this sort of reticence from Yui. _That's the thing about her, _the raven-haired kouhai thought fondly, reaching to touch her girlfriend's elbow. _We could live to be a thousand years old, and she could still surprise me. _"Just say what's in your heart," she whispered, giving the advice that helped her say what she needed to.

"I was thinking about why you couldn't outright say 'I love you.'" Yui looked up at Azusa, and her eyes were soft, gentle. "You told me it was because of your age, but…I dunno…I don't think that's all why."

The kouhai gulped. _So I was right before, _she thought dreadfully. _She was angry._

"Y-Yui-senpai," she blurted with alarming panic in her voice, "when I say 'I love you,' I mean it. I really do."

Yui lowered her head so her brune bangs shadowed her eyes, and her silence stretched further.

Azusa squeezed her elbow. "Yui…"

From under the shadow created by the senpai's hair sounded a light snuffle. Yui looked up, revealing enormous iridescent tears that sprouted from her eyes and rolled unchecked down her cheeks. "That's the thing…Azu-nyan," she sniffled, vainly arming away the tears. "I know that even…despite everything you have to worry about…you still love me."

The kouhai released her elbow out of confusion. "Eh?"

"Worrying about…what e-everyone thinks of us…Our classmates, your parents," Yui clarified amid hoarse sobs. Her upper lip glistened with mucus. "It never occurred to _me, _but…" She knew she wasn't making a bit of sense. She didn't have to: Azusa had told her to say what was in her heart, and that was what she was doing. "What really gets me is…I feel like…it's not just for yourself that you worry. It's like you worry for me."

And so the scatter-brained third year had hit the mark with such simplicity that Azusa couldn't deny it. It was true, after all. A blemish on her reputation was one thing, but anyone who wanted to hurt Yui with a homophobic slur would have Azusa to answer to. If the younger girl could take those slurs for Yui like bullets shot from a gun, if in that case the older guitarist could not get hurt, she would do that. Willingly. She owed it to Yui as a bandmate, junior, and above all her girlfriend. Unfortunately, when it came to defending one's same-sex other, it was hardly like that.

Azusa collected a handful of tissues from the box atop the kotatsu and patted away the tears and snot. "Well," she whispered, realizing with a jolt that her father at least might be able to hear their crying. Mr. Nakano favored reading away the late-night hours whilst Mitsuki and Azusa snoozed contentedly, if logs are contented. "What kind of a person would I be if I didn't worry about you now and then?"

Yui mulled that over. Her girlfriend worried so much, though, about an innumerable amount of things. Having Azusa worry about her was really like being part of her entity. The brunette could only wonder at the love between them, where it could go. That just one short year ago — heck, a week and a half ago — they had just been plain old Hirasawa Yui and Nakano Azusa. Who would they be a month later?

"Ricchan and Mio-chan talked with me," she said after she had stopped crying, "about the whole homophobia thing." She shook her head in amazement. "Honestly, it never occurred to me that people had to worry about such things, but I guess they do. Ricchan and Mio-chan, Mugi-chan and Sawa-chan-sensei, Jun-chan…"

Azusa looked at her sharply. "Jun?" She leaned forward frantically. "Jun-chan likes somebody?"

Yui grinned, eager to tell the kouhai all about this. Then her face fell and, fidgeting, she groaned, "Ohhh. This is why Ui gets mad at me sometimes…"

"Then you probably shouldn't say it," Azusa grumbled.

A soft but startling knock rapped from the other side of the bedroom door and, terrified, the kouhai shoved Yui under the kotatsu, hissing, "Hide and be quiet!"

"Azusa…?" her father called, his voice near yet muffled.

"Yeah, come in," Azusa yelled in a too-high-pitched voice. She tried to ignore Yui squirming and thrashing against her legs.

Hikaru quietly opened the door and stepped inside. He had a peculiar look on his face. "What are you doing up?"

"I just…woke up about an hour ago and I was wide awake," the kouhai said truthfully, shifting to make room for her girlfriend under the kotatsu.

If earlier it had been too freezing for Yui to breathe, now she was having the opposite problem. The kotatsu's stifling heat was like a great, hot hand placed over her mouth and nose, as well as in her throat and lungs. Every breath she took was slow and labored. What made matters worse was that she was still wearing her microfleece hoodie. Sweat stains pooled under her arms and in the small of her back, permeating the kotatsu's underside with a muggy salty smell. If only she had room to comfortably and quietly take off the hoodie.

"Who were you talking to?" Hikaru asked.

"Talking to…?" Azusa's garnet eyes were wide, shiny with fright, and darted about in search of answers. "I was on the phone…with…somebody."

Mr. Nakano's slanted, hooded eyes strayed to her daughter's cell phone on the kotatsu near her hand. His eyebrows knitted and he rubbed his stubble. _Who would she be talking to so late at night? _He had to hand it to his wife: this sort of thing, plus Azusa's defensiveness, supported the boyfriend theory.

_'Call me tonight' used to be code for 'Let's have phone sex' when I was in high school? I wonder if it still is? _Now that that thought had wormed its way into Hikaru's brain and settled there he noticed Azusa's face was a bit ruddier than usual, the way Mitsuki's was that afternoon right after she blew her loa—

"No!" he cried, his face bright red, and he turned away and pulled at his hair, one leg kicked up behind him frantically. Horrifying shivers — he didn't know if they stemmed from disgust or pleasure — ran up and down his body. "A man cannot have those thoughts about his daughter! Bad Hikaru! BAD HIKARU!"

"Um, Dad…? Are you going to be okay?"

Sighing, Hikaru slumped his shoulders and forced himself to look at Azusa. His face was exhausted and sober, frown lines attaching his nose to the corners of his mouth. _Any father should protect his daughter from the impure wills of horny teenage boys, right? Yet why should I force my agenda on a girl who might go to Tokyo U next year?_

His eyes suddenly snapped open. "Hey!" he said, and he eagerly rushed forward to seat himself under the kotatsu across from Azusa. "Why didn't you tell me you were trying to get into Tokyo U?"

Azusa squinted. "What?"

Yui had gasped in terror when she saw Hikaru's legs suddenly appear under the kotatsu. If she made one false move, he would find her. And as deep the trouble Yui knew she would get into with him was, she also knew her girlfriend would get into far worse trouble. Now it was her turn to worry about Azusa, whom she scooched closer to in an attempt to avoid her father. Damn men's long legs, for Yui had to go so far away her head came too close to Azusa's…

"Some friends of yours came by this afternoon," Hikaru said, beaming, "and one of them — some funny gal with a headband — she's helping you get into Tokyo U, right?"

"Ritsu-senpai…?" Azusa murmured, edging farther back so Yui's head wasn't so close to her see-you-next-Tuesday. _So she lied to my parents, eh? _she thought with a grunt. Ritsu could get famous for how frequently she lied and how bad she was at it. _She had Dad fooled, though. And who am I to criticize when I just lied to him myself? _Deciding maybe at the time the drummer had a good reason for lying, Azusa played along with: "Eheh, yeah. I just wanted a great educational experience to look forward to after I graduate next year…"

"Eh?" Mr. Nakano blinked. "She told me you'd be going next year."

Azusa's eyebrows slanted, and her eyes went saucer-like. _How much detail did Ritsu-senpai fabricate into this lie? _she thought frantically. "Well, actually, I…I, uh, was thinking of staying at Sakuragaoka for another year. So many third year experiences that I don't want to miss out on, y'know? The trip to Kyoto, the play, the…"

_I'm going to pass out, _Yui thought breathlessly. Black dots and sparks of color clouded her vision like a fireworks display and her body became heavy, numb. _If I could switch off the heater maybe, _she thought dully. Her hand groped about blindly in search of the switch. Her overheated head sank languidly to the floor by her girlfriend's feet. At last her tired hand came upon a little bump between two folds of fabric. Taking it for the switch, Yui eagerly tugged at it.

"HYAAAAHHHH!" Azusa yelped, a jolt shooting through her body from between her legs and back again.

"The Hyatt!" Hikaru exclaimed. "Nice hotel…Gosh, I didn't think they had such nice hotels in Kyoto. During my high school days, we went to Kyoto and…"

Azusa didn't want to listen to his yarn, but knew she would have to. No girl wants to listen to her father talk while her girlfriend's pulling at her…her…_You think she woulda stopped pulling after I yelled, huh? _she thought, not realizing that the senpai's senses were currently dulled.

Meanwhile under the kotatsu Yui kept tugging lethargically. _Come on, you. Why won't you turn off? _she wondered, not realizing she was actually turning someone on.

"…Well, anyway," Hikaru concluded. He paused to yawn like a cavern, stretching his arms above his head. "You do what you like. Whatever makes you happy and doesn't hurt anybody. You're a good kid." He then extended a hand to cup Azusa's within it. "Just don't grow up too fast, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." The kouhai was shivering. If a girl didn't want her father to talk to her while someone was handling her "kotatsu switch," she definitely didn't want him touching her. Glaring downwards, she dealt Yui a swift kick that stopped her switchplay. "You look drained, Dad. You should go to bed."

"I was just thinkin' that myself. Good night, Azusa." He leaned forward to kiss her, and she shrank away, bidding him an eager but unwelcoming 'good night.'

As soon as he was gone, Azusa furiously threw open the blanket. "Oh, don't you feel brave, you pervert, you — _eep!_" she squeaked upon finding Yui collapsed and unconscious at the bottom of the kotatsu. "Yui-senpai! Speak to me!" she wailed, shaking the older girl hysterically. "Are you alive! Say something!"

"…Turn off…the kotatsu…please…"

* * *

><p>AN

A direct rip-off from Love Hina, admittedly. Everybody loved Azusa's kotatsu switch. Along with "braingasm," to be used in a later chapter, it was one of those phrases that came up frequently in conversations with other authors.


	24. Yamoto Chiharu Desu!

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Yamoto Chiharu Desu!**

Monday morning found Azusa braving a full day of school after the ordeal of her root canal. The pain in her jaw wasn't as head-spinning now, wasn't as dizzying. She had lived through Sunday on naught but a pint of dulce de leche ice cream, which both nauseated her and sent her bouncing off the walls. But today so far she could eat a bowl of Fiber One cereal; she could drink water and, to her pleasant surprise, coffee. Really, the bruise had become like any other: painful only if you touch it.

All that made the stares she had been getting a lot more bearable.

_Azusa! What happened to you? _and _Nakano-san! Your face! _and _Who hit you? _Such were the questions that assailed the pigtailed girl upon setting foot on Sakuragaoka's campus. Azusa rolled her eyes as she made her way to sociology class. Right now girls were staring at her, seeing only the bruise and not matching it up to the kouhai's face. Some whispered to their gal-pals. _Without a doubt, I'll have to answer to some rumors later…_

"Ah! Azusa!"

Sighing, the guitarist looked up to see Jun waving her over. Aside from homeroom, sociology was the one class Azusa, Ui, and Jun had together. Furuhara-sensei's seating arrangement put the three of them in a chess knight's move: Azusa sat next to Ui and behind Jun.

Ui craned her neck to see Azusa entering the classroom over her shoulder. Her amicable smile wiped clean off her pale face. Something between a cry and a gasp burst from her mouth, which she now clapped both hands to. Her dust-colored eyes were wide and bright. Azusa had to hand it to Ui: of everyone's reactions, hers was the funniest. But the guitarist would bet a hundred yen at least one of her senpais in the Light Music Club could top it.

"My God!" Ui squeaked. She dropped her hands away from her mouth, which hung open comically. As Azusa sullenly seated herself the brunette blinked stupidly and stammered, "I, uh, heard about this, but…I never thought…that…"

"You were set further on the path to womanhood this weekend, Nakano," said Jun, who had gotten her molars removed over the summer. "You got a crown now, right?"

"Hai." Azusa hitched the corner of her mouth back, her crown standing out with blaring metallic luminosity. She had gone with a silver crown. Yellow metal, she thought, would have made her look like ghetto Kansai hakibutsu (trash).

"Sorry we couldn't visit you," Ui apologized with genuine sorrow in her voice. "Oneechan told me she and the others dropped by."

_And what an impression they made. _If her father somewhat believed Azusa's reinterpretation of Ritsu's lie, Mitsuki had swallowed the whole thing. As far as they knew, she had considered Tokyo U, got Ritsu and the gang to help her prepare for the exams, but now she was changing her mind. Now Hikaru and Mitsuki were frantically trying to change it back. At least try for it, they said.

_Hey, that's right. _Azusa blushed as she stared blankly at her desktop. _Yui visited me and she touched my…_

A cloud of milky steam burst from atop the guitarist's head, which sank lower against her shoulders. Her clitoris ached from the memory of being pinched between Yui's thumb and forefinger — and being tugged at, repeatedly. Admittedly, it was all Azusa thought about since then. Up until then she had been the only person to touch herself there. _Having someone else touch me — Yui-senpai, no less…_

Trembling violently, Azusa clutched the edges of her desk, head bowed.

"I'm really, really sorry, Azusa-chan!" Ui whimpered. "I didn't think you'd take it this way! Let me make it up to you."

The thought that the guitarist couldn't reconcile herself to but knew she had to was that she kind of liked it.

"What's this?" Jun queried, sweeping something off the top of Azusa's desk with her finger. She rubbed it against her thumb, feeling the thin wet texture. A rust color accented her whorls. "Blood!"

Sure enough, Azusa had a heavy nosebleed going. The blood was copious, the same dark red as her eyes, and it gathered in random drops and puddles on her desk like imbrued landmasses on a map.

Ui immediately produced a pocket-packet of Kleenex from within her blazer and pressed a tissue against Azusa's dripping nose. Jun, meanwhile, was laughing her ass off.

"Hahaha! Ohoho! I thought only boys got bloody noses! Hah!"

Her voice darkening ominously, with a _go~ _sound effect rumbling in the background, Ui leaned forward. "What did you do with my sister?"

Azusa breathlessly shook her head, her eyes fearful saucers. "D-duthig! I sweah!"

"Oneechan…deflowered like that…" Now Ui was the one trembling. The lack of blood about the snoot and her slanted eyebrows attested that her quivers, unlike Azusa's, stemmed from anger.

"We dihid do duthig! Really!" The raven-haired kouhai shrank away from the livid Ui, still clutching her Kleenex to her face. After a tense moment or two it seemed the ponytailed girl had relaxed — and therefore Azusa and Jun as well — though her right hand remained clenched upon her knee. Maybe the guitarist hadn't done anything impure with her sister, but her thoughts were clearly on such things.

Jun grunted and, leaning forward, placed her hand lightly on the back of Azusa's head and tipped it forward. "Ach. You really oughta have your head like this, y'know."

"Wha' diff'redce does id bake?"

"You don't want the blood going down your throat."

Azusa smirked. "Sboked like ad egsperd, huh," she teased.

A bright red blush suffused Jun's face, and she glared aside. "No way. Like I said, only boys get nosebleeds…boys and shrimpy guitarists."

Ui's brown eyes followed the two musicians, drifting back and forth as they bantered. She couldn't help giggling. It was just so cute to her, to see Jun acting so bashful and yet so affectionate around Azusa, vainly hiding her true feelings. The ponytailed girl ardently wished she had been more observant in the past so that she could have seen if Jun had always been this way. She had nearly squealed when the bassist touched the guitarist's head, tilting her own so her magenta eyes could meet Azusa's garnet ones. _Gyahh! How romantic! _she thought, tapping the heel of her foot excitedly. _I wish I could have a moment like that with oneechan!_

"Ah, yes. That reminds me." Azusa lifted her head from her saturated tissues; her nose had stopped bleeding. She fixed Jun with a level stare and dead-panned, "I hear you're pretty into me."

Jun had been resting her face against her hand, which now fell to her desk with a _thwump! _More pounding blood bloomed in her face. In her vision everything reeled, blurred, sharpened, spun, and drifted. She dropped her head hopelessly on her desk. _Why does it have to be this way? _she thought, feeling her face throb against her cool desktop. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight that light burst behind the lids. _Will I ever get to tell Ui-chan how I feel? _Here she was, a few days from seventeen, and having all the rotten love-luck of a thirteen-year-old…or a nineteen-year-old Ken Akamatsu character sent to be landlord of a girls' dorm.

Azusa frantically leaned forward to awkwardly grasp Jun's shoulder. "Hey, take it easy." Seeing that this wasn't enough to placate her distressed friend, the guitarist got out of her seat and crouched next to her desk. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Ui tilted her head, eyebrows puckered in sorrow for the bass player. Sympathy and a deep ache to go over and comfort Jun torrented through her burning veins. The desire was so great that she had to clutch the edges of her seat. She dearly hoped Azusa would answer Jun's feelings and get together with her, yet at the same time she didn't want Yui to experience that kind of heartbreak. _Your girlfriend dumps you, turns around, and jumps to the next girl. _Ui shook her head. _What an awful way for oneechan and Azusa-chan to break up._

"But, um," the guitarist continued. She peered downward and her cheeks pinkened. "I…I love Yui." Looking back up, she smiled, "I'd like for us to still be friends, though."

"How can you say that, Azusa-chan?"

Both Azusa and Jun looked up, surprised by Ui's sudden outburst, to find the ponytailed girl standing up.

The guitarist blinked. 'I open my mouth, words come out," she answered.

"No, how can you just reject her after everything she's been through?" Ui's normally level soprano voice now had enough passion enrichening it for a hundred Justin Bieber fans.

Jun came within a breath of pointing out Ui was the chief source of "everything she's been through," but Azusa's heated reply stayed that.

"If you've forgotten, I'm with Yui-senpai. I can't just break up with her."

"You can, though!" Now Ui's passion level had cranked up to two hundred Justin Bieber fans. "Then _I _could have her!"

In the silence that followed gravity seemed to intensify within the classroom. Everybody had frozen in the middle of what she was doing. The girl at the pencil sharpener, the girl laying a report on the teacher's desk. In the midst of all this oppressive silence were Azusa and Ui; one crouching, the other standing; eyes locked. And in that moment they knew each other. They knew who they fought for and who stood in their way. Fighting the gravity, Azusa rose only to slump back in her chair. Ui likewise sat back down, eyes darting. Jun's moan sounded muted in the stillness. _Subtle, she's not._

The classroom was still dead silent when the teacher entered…no, the substitute teacher, it seemed: a wiry, hawk-nosed fellow with feathery red hair, wide blue eyes, and glasses.

"Oh good, a quiet class," he commented, setting his bag upon Furuhara's desk. "My favorite kind."

This man spent the last minute of the passing period reading through the lesson plans Furuhara had left behind. He wrote the date on the board — November 9, 2009 — and a few topics pertaining to the lesson. They would be discussing white collar crimes. A few girls whispered among themselves, but no one raised her voice louder than that. If it were at all possible, this substitute teacher had a more oppressive presence than Nakano-san and Hirasawa-san had a minute ago.

"Anybody seen the show _I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant_?" he asked after the late bell rang.

Some girls shook their heads. One piped up, "I've heard of it."

"Do you all know what it is at least?...Well, apparently that's why Furuhara-sensei's not in today. Yesterday she gave birth to a healthy baby girl." He sighed, tilting his head the way teachers and lawyers do to say, _Some messed-up crap in this world, ain't there?_

Azusa raised her head, eyebrows knitting. Somehow she found this hard to swallow.

Someone else would find something hard to swallow as well.

"So, she's on her maternity leave," he continued. "She'll be out for the remainder of the year, they reckon. Now," he added firmly, raising a finger. "I teach sociology and psychology. So don't think that the rest of the year's going to be a whoop-dee-doo. I'll be preparing you ladies for your finals."

He did an about-face and wrote his name on the board. Then he turned back around, pointing his chalk at what he'd written with an authoritative rap.

"I am Tokudaiji-sensei, your sub for the rest of the year."

* * *

><p>Normally Azusa hurried on up to the clubroom after school. Today she took her time, trudging thoughtfully up the stairs. The root canal still had her tuckered out, and she had a lot of heavy things on the brain.<p>

Nonetheless she appeared delightfully happy, entering Music Room 3 with a bounce in her walk and a singing note in her voice.

"Hi, everyone," she greeted cheerily, making her way to the table.

"Hey, there," Ritsu grinned. She was leaning back in her chair, one hand grasping her tea cup, the other resting behind her head. "Aren't you a happy face."

"I am a happy face." Azusa paused to drop her bag in front of the coffee table with everybody else's. She gestured at the window. "Birds are singing." She swept her hand along her cheek. "My face doesn't hurt as much." She continued toward the table, arms spread. "And I'm here with my senpais. What in the world isn't there to be happy about?"

Mio sat rigidly, her tea cup hesitating by her mouth, her silver eyes watching Azusa carefully. Her gut was telling her that this 'happy face' thing was an act or a set-up of some sort. The kouhai could be sentimental, yes, but not this openly and usually not without some provocation from Yui. The bassist slowly sipped her tea, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ritsu, nothing daunted, drained the last of her tea. She set the cup on its plate with a satisfied _dink! _"Well, it's great to see you have so much respect for your senpais. That's the way it should be, y'know?"

"Yes, it should." Behind her Azusa had a hand upon her shoulder, and in the blink of an eye Ritsu found herself seized in a rough headlock. It happened so fast the drummer thought she had been in a time warp. In her ear, Azusa roared, "Especially the senpais who are so kind to _HELP ME GET INTO TOKYO U!_"

The brunette gave a terrified squeak, her eyes turning into saucers.

Sighing, Mio set her own tea cup down. She remembered the shiny-eyed look on Mr. Nakano's face and knew this would piss Azusa off. Thus, she made no attempt to coax the kouhai off her girlfriend. _When Ricchan tells an outrageous lie like that, she really ought to pay for it._

"Do you know what that was like, trying to explain that lie I knew nothing about to my father? And with Yui-senpai…" More steam burst from her: this time, twin shoots of vapor from her ears that set her pigtails aloft. Realizing she had said too much, she released the gagging Ritsu and turned away, face rosy.

Yui inquired, "And with me what?"

"Nothing," Azusa snapped, her voice fluttering and the memory burning up her…

"Do I detect some latent hostility?" Sawako greeted as she entered the room. She herself had experienced a bit of latent hostility on the way to Music Room 3, exchanging some unladylike words with Tokudaiji. She put that all behind her now as she sat by Mugi.

"Ritsu-senpai told my parents she was helping me get into Tokyo U," Azusa told Sawako, still facing away from the others.

Fidgeting, Yui added, "She also told them I'm insane."

And Mio said, "_And _she told them I tamper with Yui's medication."

"Which I don't have," Yui added defensively.

Nervously playing with her tie, Ritsu let her hazel eyes creep from one scowl to the next. Each of them made her flinch. _Ohh, their stares kinda hurt… _Grunting, she replied in a haughty voice to Azusa, "Fine. You want your parents to find out about you and Yui? I saved you, squirt."

"Tainaka-san." Ritsu blanched as she found herself face-to-face with Sawako, whose neck fluttered liverishly. "You didn't spout any lies about Mugi-chan, did you?"

"N-no! I didn't! Really! Mugi-chan hardly said anything while we were there!"

Tapping her chin, Mugi peered calmly up at the ceiling. _Well, well, well, well, well, well. That's true, isn't it? _she thought. _I didn't have many lines during that arc. _Her thick eyebrows slanted and a determined smile spread across her face. _One day I'll have an arc of my own…I just hope Sawa-chan can be a part of it. _**Spoilers.**

Once the animosity towards Ritsu's lies died down the Light Music Club loosened up and drank another round before practice. They discussed a great many significant and insignificant things. Things like: So overall, Hair was fun; couldn't tell if we did good or bad; congrats on your gold medal, Mugi-chan; Nodoka should have taken that job, no matter that it would involve being pawed and groped by horny women. When the topic came to Terror Firma, Mio found it appropriate to make her announcement.

"They're not too shabby, huh?" Azusa commented after swallowing a mouthful of cake.

"They were amazing!" Yui exclaimed, clasping her hands delightedly. "They're guitarist was so cool! Did you _hear _her solo in that song about middle-distance running? And their keyboardist! She plays _two _keyboards, at the same time! How do you think she does that?"

Sawako chuckled appreciatively. "You were really taken with them, weren't you?"

The brunette nodded vigorously, leaning forward. "I wonder if they put out an album? If they did, I would listen to it!"

_What an opening! _Ritsu thought victoriously, throwing a meaningful glance at Mio.

The bassist nodded and set down her fork. "You know," she spoke up, "Ricchan and I knew the keyboardist when she was little."

This elicited a flurry of eager questions from Yui and Azusa. Mugi stayed quiet, but Ritsu noticed the interested glint in her blue eyes as she looked at the drummer and bassist. Meanwhile, the two guitarists' ardor could hardly be contained. They jumped on this mamechishiki like dogs on a bone.

"You did? Really?"

"What was she like?"

"How old were you?"

"How did you meet?"

"Did either of you ever have a secret crush on her?"

"Did you fight over her?"

_These questions are getting weird, _Mio thought.

"We'll explain later," Ritsu dismissed, waving a hand. Again she looked at Mugi to find the ojou toying with her cup, her eyes glazed, as if lost in some pleasant memory. Looking around at the rest of the band, she continued, "Point is, we spoke with Chiharu-chan, Mio and I did, and she's gonna help us record our own album."

Mugi snapped out of her trance to give Ritsu a surprised look just as Yui and Azusa exploded with oaths, exclamations, and more questions, always more questions. Once her shock wore off the keyboardist contributed some of her own thoughts. Even Sawako made some inquiries. Music Room 3 was alive with the words _who, what, where, why _and _how. _Mio stutteringly answered the questions to the best of her ability. But for every question she answered about three more came to take its place. _This is getting ridonculous, _thought Ritsu. She looked at Mugi, who then pinched her lower lip and whistled brightly, just as she had last week. Silence fell immediately.

Sawako shook her head in amazement. "I never could do that."

"Takes practice," the blonde girl shrugged.

The drummer then explained that Chiharu had recently emailed her directions to her place of residence, where they would begin recording on Friday. Afterschool practice would be skipped to bring their instruments over. As she said this, Ritsu's golden eyes focused blearily on her drums. Her arms felt strained just from thinking about carrying them all that way.

"Well, you know everything Ricchan and I know," Mio concluded. Her chair chuffed on the wooden floor as she stood. "I say we practice now. We should fine-tune some stuff before we begin recording."

"I agree," Azusa assented, also standing. Her young head was in a whirl with this great news. _Mom and Dad played at the House of Blues and stuff, _she thought, clasping her hands over her heart, _but not even they've done this! _"C'mon, c'mon," she impatiently prodded Yui and Ritsu. The former was scraping cake crumbs off her plate. "Let's go! Let's do this!" Once everybody was assembled with their instruments Azusa bounced from foot to foot like a kid chomping at the bit to go to the toy store. "I can't wait! Can Friday come tomorrow? I don't think I'll be able to sleep!"

Ritsu sighed good-naturedly. "Azu-nyan's all fired up."

"She seems to be acting more her age," Mugi agreed.

The drummer looked at the ojou, noticing that her face was more vibrant than earlier. _What's eating her? _she wondered. As they ran through some of their songs Ritsu noticed that cloud from before pass over Mugi's face. She took it as perhaps a trance-like state pianists might slip into while playing, but still she asked as they put away their instruments, "Something up, Mugi-chan?"

Mugi stared at her keyboard case for a moment before looking up and responding. She was living deep within her body today; messages took a long time getting out and an even longer time getting in. "I was just thinking…maybe getting a kotatsu for the clubroom would be a good idea."

_You were deep in thought over that? _Ritsu scowled and raised an eyebrow.

Azusa chewed the inside of her mouth, cheeks pink. Thanks to Yui, the kotatsu now had certain associations. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Yui exclaimed. "I think that's a great idea!"

"Because…" The second year frowned and turned a deeper shade of pink. The tips of her ears were practically red. She couldn't say it, but her reason for not wanting a kotatsu was her fear of getting impure thoughts about Yui in front of her senpais.

"We could practice under the kotatsu!" the elder guitarist cheered, eyes shining at this prospect.

"I couldn't," Ritsu grumbled, "but I do like the idea of having tea under a kotatsu during the winter."

"You can't all be serious!" But they were in their own amusing ways. Azusa's wide eyes, devoid of color due to shrinking pupils, swept among her three senpais. Mugi was smiling softly, though her eyes seemed distant. Ritsu had her arms crossed, and she was nodding approvingly. Yui bounced up and down the way the kouhai did when she learned they would be recording. Azusa's head dropped and shook in horror. She knew that under this kotatsu she would only be able to think of Yui pulling at her switch. _What if it happens again?_

"Ah! Mio-senpai will surely…"

But when she turned to the bassist for a boost she found Mio cupping her chin thoughtfully with an aura of I Kinda Want a Kotatsu As Well.

"N-not you, too?" Now Azusa's eyes were saucers as she waved her arms frantically. "Mio-senpai, we don't practice nearly enough as it is, and this kotatsu will only discourage practice!"

"You might be right," Mio nodded. "But it's not like we sound bad or anything. And this room does get chilly during the winter."

Azusa stumbled as Yui tugged at her skirt from where she knelt before the kouhai. She then threw her arms around her waist and rocked against her until she swayed. "Pleeease, Azu-nyan! I'll feed it and water it and take it for walks!"

"It's a kotatsu, not a puppy…"

"Frankly, I agree with Azusa-chan." These two bits came from Sawako, and everybody looked at her in shock. Azusa had a warm gleam of gratitude in her expression. The sensei continued, "The kotatsu is a single gal's friend. And since none of us gals are single we shouldn't rely on it so heavily."

Raw energy buzzed and torrented through Sawako's calves. She could feel herself starting to go on a roll. She threw back her chair and paced about the room. "No, my friends. Winters like this should be spent with a lover. I will be spending Fuyu 2009 with…" She raised an arm over her head to point dramatically at the keyboardist. "…the Kotatsumugi!"

"Kotatsumugi?" all five Light Music Club members echoed, spluttering.

"Are you really going to call me that?" Mugi giggled, genuinely tickled.

"Well, something like that…Stop your goddamn laughing!" Sawako snapped at Ritsu, who was leaning over the table in peals of uncontrollable mirth.

"I'm not sure I get it," Azusa murmured, itching an eyebrow.

"Ah! I do!" said Yui. She was still on the floor holding onto holding onto her girlfriend's waist. "It's because Mugi-chan's warm!"

Warm the ojou certainly was, which made the bitingly frigid air the six of them stepped out into a lot easier for Sawako. Light rain descended from the pale clouds, chilling them even more with its stinging drops. Yui and Azusa departed immediately, leaving the remaining four to make marginally lengthier goodbyes.

"I'm glad you got Chiharu to record our album," Mugi said, smiling, as she and Sawako started to leave. "I can't wait to go to her mansion on Friday!"

Ritsu and Mio stared after the keyboardist in stupefaction, the former's jaw slack, before they shook their heads and made for the subdivision they both lived in. The drummer didn't need a 'Kotatsumugi' to keep her warm in such undesirable weather. She derived plenty of warmth from holding Mio's hand in her coat pocket. This allowed them to walk closer to each other.

"I think we'll be dead before we learn all of Mugi-chan's secrets," Ritsu mumbled.

"Yeah," Mio agreed quietly. She looked up at the sky, wondering when the day would come when rain became snow. _First a keyboardist in a band that opened for us, then an ojou, now she's connected to Mugi. _What stuck out to the raven-haired girl was not that Mugi knew Chiharu lived in a mansion but that she had referred to her without honorifics. _That really is beyond Mugi's manners. _Who _was _this mysterious old classmate of theirs?

They arrived at Ritsu's house and made their goodbyes at the base of the driveway. Ever since Mrs. Tainaka caught them kissing, Mio refrained from honoring the dating tradition of walking your girlfriend to her door to kiss her goodbye. Ritsu didn't seem to mind, just as long as a kiss with the bassist was involved…which it was this time, of course. And not just one. Three long, satisfying kisses were involved that afternoon. Ritsu still held Mio's hand in her pocket and she could feel her squeezing it powerfully. The bass player's grip loosened as her girlfriend pulled back. It made Ritsu think of squeezing someone's hand when she got shots as a little kid.

_If that's so, _she thought, _then I wonder if she would squeeze harder if it felt better?_

To test this theory Ritsu came in for a deeper, more open-mouthed kiss, pressing a bit more of herself against Mio. In her pocket the raven-haired girl's hand was practically crushing her own. _She's got really strong hands, _the drummer thought. _Does she do you-know-what a lot, or something? _Ritsu settled her hips against Mio's, and the bassist's other hand began to quiver.

_THOCK!_

"What's the big idea, you perv?" Mio demanded.

The lump on Ritsu's head was so painful it glowed, not unlike Rudolph's nose. "Ow…Helloooo, Naru…"

"Look, I know we've known each other for twelve years," Mio continued in a rushed voice, "but let's not jump into this stuff. We should be worrying about more important things."

"All I did was kiss you!" _Never mind that my intentions were a little dirty…_

"You…you were trying to…" The bassist looked down, eyebrows knitted and cheeks flushed. The hand Ritsu had been holding hung by her side, clenching and unclenching.

The drummer stood slowly and flashed Mio a toothy grin. "Well, whatever you thought I was trying to do, it looks like it worked."

_BAM!_

"I was thinking no such thing!"

"Mio, you're gonna kill me one day," Ritsu gagged into the pavement. The force of her girlfriend's punch had driven her face into the sidewalk.

After a curt goodbye, Mio headed on home. She tried to pretend that she hadn't felt something warming up within her when Ritsu kissed her like that. But, in truth, the bassist was so occupied with that something that she forgot to open her front door and wound up hitting her head on it.

* * *

><p>Friday the 13th rolled around without a flake of snow, but quite a few degrees' drop in temperature. The five Light Music Club members were so excited for their first recording session with Terror Firma that they arrived at Sakuragaoka an hour and a half before school hours to prepare. Transporting their instruments to the Yamoto mansion had been their chief Gchat topic the night before. Unfortunately, Sawako couldn't fit all of them <em>and <em>their gear into her car. Finally Yui posed a suggestion that would be their plan for Friday after school. To say that the guitarist had surprised her bandmates was the understatement of the year. At last, it seemed, Yui had grown some sensibility…until they found out it was actually Ui's suggestion through Yui.

After seventh period they immediately departed — no tea, no cake.

"I want Mugi-chan's teeeea," Yui whined. She dragged her feet across the pavement, her right arm struggling with the weight of one of Ritsu's drums.

"Jesus Christ!" Azusa finally snapped. Her girlfriend had been at this ever since they left. The raw, bitter air and having to carry another drum of Ritsu's did nothing to brighten the kouhai's mood. "We are about to do the most important thing in our lives! Get serious about _that _and NOT THE FRIGGIN' TEA!" Her dry tongue dashed out into the dryer air. Azusa didn't mention it, but she also longed for a cup of Mugi's red tea, maybe also a slice of moist, rich German chocolate cake.

Smiling, Yui picked up her pace so she could walk alongside Azusa. She rubbed her face, cat-like, against the pigtailed girl's arm and cooed, "Azu-nyaaan, does someone need a hug?"

"Huh. I'd like to see you try that with that drum in your arms."

"If you break my drums I'll break you," Ritsu warned from behind. She carried no drums, but she pulled Yui and Ui's old toboggan which now served as a pack mule for Gitah, Elizabesu, Mu-chan, Korgy, and the Zildjan cymbals from Ritsu's Hipgig. This was Ui's suggestion through Yui, and it brought Afterschool Tea Time a fair amount of embarrassment. The sight of four girls carrying drums and one girl pulling a toboggan — in November — that scraped rudely across the snowless ground turned quite a few heads.

"Here." Yui turned her own head to find Mugi suddenly beside her. The blonde keyboardist smiled sweetly — under one arm she bore Ritsu's snare drum, and her other arm was extended to offer the guitarist a steaming thermos.

Yui's eyes tripled in size. "Is…is that…?"

"Yes," Mugi whispered meaningfully whilst meaningful music played in the background. "Yes, it is."

Yui eagerly accepted the thermos with an exclamation of, "Mina-san!" She raced ahead of the group to stand with the thermos held high above her head. "Do you see this? It's Mugi's tea! _Today a child is born unto us and his name will be Mugi's tea._"

Cue a beam of light and angels singing.

Ritsu, exasperated, turned her hazel eyes upward toward the sky. "This fic is so cracky I don't know if I should read it or smoke it."

"What's a fic, Ricchan? Can you eat it?" Yui rejoined the band on their excursion to the Yamoto mansion, gulping chamomile tea. At Mugi's request, she passed the thermos around so everybody could drink some. "Is it like that fruit you find in those cookies?"

"That's a _fig, _Yui-chan." Ritsu gratefully accepted the thermos when it came her way, and she took a long pull from it. Wiping her mouth, she called, "Mio, do you want some Chamo-not-the-ermine tea?"

The bassist's bitter reply made its way to the brunette from far behind. "I don't think I could drink it…"

Poor Mio was left to carry the bass drum, which she bore with both arms wrapped around it. Her eyes squinted and her mouth tightened from the effort. "Why couldn't you play tambourine?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Tambourine's for sissies! Now move, leadfoot!"

The raven-haired girl sighed and plumbed her back so she could walk faster.

"Really, Ricchan, what's a fic? Is it a game...which you just lost...?"

They arrived at the mansion just as the sun had descended below the horizon. Its structure was gentle yet heavy in the starless night sky. It was on the outskirts of the Sakura district, down a slope and surrounded by trees.

"It's…kinda spooky," Mio gulped. "Maybe we can come back tomorrow when it's light out."

Ritsu rubbed her arm, which was sore from pulling the toboggan. The mansion _was _a little eerie. But it could have had ghosts and zombies shooting out of it and the drummer would still refuse to turn back around. Not after coming all this way.

"We can't shirk this, Mio-chan," said Yui. "It would be rude."

Nodding, Ritsu edged up to the stone wall and pressed the 'call' button on the intercom. Almost immediately there was an answer.

"Hai?" A male voice — deep, rich, and with the professional tone of a butler.

"Good evening, sir," the drummer greeted with feminine speech in a falsetto voice. "Please do pardon us, but we are mere cap acquaintances of Chiu-chan—_URGH!_" she grunted as Mio crowned her. And Ritsu sank to the ground, one eye fluttering.

"We're friends of Chiharu…ojousama," Mio spoke, unsure of how to refer to her old classmate to the butler, "and we have an appointment with her tonight."

A pause. Then: "Hai."

With a mechanical groan, the iron gate slid open along its track. The bassist deftly hauled up her dizzy girlfriend, and the five of them proceeded.

Once they were past the stone wall the Light Music Club could get a better view of the estate. Rolling verdant hills cascaded for a league owned by old Devore Yamoto, fenced in by tall cement walls like the one they just passed through. On the left were rows of dirt, like a sheet of burlap rolled across the green — during haru and natsu they served as herb, flower, and vegetable gardens. On the right nearest to the band babbled a marble fountain with rainbow lights coloring the jumping water in the lowest bowl. Farther ahead there was a vacant tennis court.

And in the center of it all, down the slope and along the cobblestone path, like a pearl set in the center of a beautiful ring, stood the actual mansion. Its wide applewood double doors were thrown open to admit Afterschool Tea Time. Soft golden light from inside seeped out into the bitter night, accenting the silhouettes of a tall man and a small girl.

The toboggan clattered along the cobblestone path, speeding up dangerously as the five of them descended the hill. When they arrived at the deck Chiharu crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at it.

"Oh my, I thought this might be a problem," she sighed. "I should've sent Bobbo for you guys. Bobbo — he's my driver." She turned to the mustached man beside her. "Arakawa-san, please take these instruments up to the acoustic room."

"Hai, ojousama."

As relieved as Mio was of her burden when the butler took Ritsu's bass drum in his arms, she felt bad for the guy. "I hope he doesn't think we're imposing."

"He's not paid to think, Mio-chan," Chiharu assured her. "He's paid to make us happy." She noticed Yui shivering and rubbing her arms. With the slightest hint of a smile on her pale face, the brune ojou curled her left hand in a beckoning gesture. "Well, c'mon in. The acoustic room waits for no—"

Her hooded eyes fell upon Mugi. Stopping herself short, Chiharu flew back in alarm. "Tsumugi! Why're you—"

"I was hoping you would recognize me, Chiharu," Mugi smiled. Mio and Ritsu watched with wide eyes as she stepped forward into the light.

Chiharu's eyes were also wide, and her dark eyebrows furrowed in a myriad of confusing emotions. "How could I not?" she gasped, frowning. "That, the talk I had with Mugi-chan, I—" She clapped both hands over her mouth and blushed deeply. Her eyes were saucers. "Sumimasen!" she cried, backing away from Mugi and bowing skittishly.

Mugi beamed and stepped closer, a warm hand extended. "You even remember my nickname, Chiharu! That makes me so happy!" Her hand touched the brunette's shoulder, and Chiharu jerked away as if scalded.

"I had no idea you were in this band, Tsumugi." She was no longer friendly or familiar. She was Azusa and Suiseiseki — throwing in 'desu' left and right. Shuddering, she lowered her head miserably and grumbled, "Well, then, let's record, shall we?"

She stalked into the mansion, leaving the Light Music Club to stare after her. Even Yui stopped shivering long enough to wonder what had come over Terror Firma's keyboardist. Mugi's beryl eyes swam as she dashed after her, right hand reaching.

"Chiu-chan!" she cried with a punctured lung. "Chotto matte!"

And Chiharu did wait. She halted. Then she sighed, clasped her hands behind her back, and continued walking.

Mugi stood there with her back to her bandmates, right hand still out but touching nothing. A freezing gust set her aurum curls flying as her hand slowly lowered to her side. Yui and Azusa stared at her, waiting with baited breath for what she would do. Mio and Ritsu peered aside at each other, wondering what all this meant.

Finally the blonde girl turned to face them. Instead of tearful, they found her smiling widely. "You heard her! Let's record!"

"Yay!" Yui bolted into the mansion with Azusa trailing behind. After a moment Ritsu stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and followed. Mio hesitated.

_Mugi's…forcing herself._

* * *

><p>AN

Cracky chapters are cracky.

DAMN IT YUI! You made my precious readers lose the game! Now COME OVER HERE AND ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT!

References were made to Scott Pilgrim, Haruhi Suzumiya, Rozen Maiden (just like Suiseiseki, Chiharu ends every sentence with "desu"), Negima!, and...I think that's it._  
><em>


	25. Fuses Running Short

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**Fuses Running Short**

They arrived at the acoustic room to find that the knob refused to turn. The door was locked.

Chiharu rapped her knuckles against the sweet-smelling applewood. "Open up — Afterschool Tea Time's here."

"I was told not to open the door for anyone," came a monotone soprano voice. It was Ayana, Terror Firma's drummer.

The brune ojou raised a thick eyebrow. "Eh? Who told you that?"

No response.

Chiharu sighed. "Open the door, Aya-chan."

"I cannot."

"Why not?" she demanded losing patience.

"Because then I would be opening the door for someone," Ayana responded in her best Chihara Minori voice.

Chiharu groaned and leaned her hands against the doorframe, head bowed so low her chin touched her collarbone. Her eyes were shut tight with frustration. Meanwhile Yui and Ritsu bounced up and down as they caught the reference.

"I love that anime!" the guitarist squealed.

"Who doesn't?" the drummer grinned.

Mio shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Good grief. I'm dating a nerd."

"Aww, and you love me," Ritsu winked, elbowing her girlfriend's ribs.

Chiharu raised her head so she could glare through the door, behind which she imagined Ayana doubled over with giggles. "Okay, Aya-chan, I'll give it up to you: you do a great Yuki impersonation. _Now _will you open the door?"

"I was told not to open the—_ouch!_" Ayana's exclamation was accompanied by a thick _THOCK! _which Ritsu could instantly recognize. There was a heavy clack as the tumbles turned to release the lock; and when Fujusegawa Hitomi threw the door open, behind her the raven-haired drummer could be seen nursing a headlump.

Mio's eyes hooded, and she smirked. _One in every band, huh?_

"Ah apol'gize," Hitomi said in her thick Kansai accent. "Ya know how bored Aya-chan gets when th' band ain't practicin'."

"Like I'm the only one!" Ayana was gingerly touching her lump. "Wasn't it you who was suggesting we learn how to play the Rozen Maiden theme?"

"That was you, cabbage head."

Chiharu cleared her throat and gestured at Mio and Ritsu. "Hitomi, you know my two old classmates." She let her hand sweep along the remaining three. "This is their band, the ladies who opened for us. Yui-chan, Azusa-chan..." She paused and her expressive hand stiffened. "...and Tsumugi," she finished flatly.

Mugi's cheeks became unpleasantly ruddy as she stared balefully at Chiharu.

"Kotobuki-han...?" Hitomi's wide eyes flicked toward Afterschool Tea Time's keyboardist. There was disbelief in her soprano drawl, as though she couldn't even comprehend her girlfriend bringing Mugi into her home.

Mugi faced Chiharu, her back straight with formality, but she let her eyes wander over to the Kyoto-born guitarist. Hitomi's brown hair was feathery and perfectly straight, her bands framing her angular face, the rest of her hair up in a red-and-white polka dotted ribbon. For someone born and raised in one of Japan's most traditional and historical cities, Hitomi bore a very Western appearance. A semblance Mugi associated with relatives of hers — Holt, for example. The grave-angled eyes, slightly hooded over robins-egg blue irises. Her eyebrows were long, arching, and dark. The blonde girl looked back at Chiharu, noting that her eyebrows were thick like Hitomi's, but shorter and gentler. Her face was a bit gentler as well.

Something glinted in Hitomi's hard face, and she stepped back, letting the heavy door swing open. "C'mon in, y'all. It's recordin' time!" Her accent twisted _time _into _tahm._

Mio gasped as the band entered the acoustic room, which the bassist now understood where it got its name from. Its high, arched ceiling was smooth and flawless, perfect for bouncing sound around and amping up its resonance. Even their footfalls — they were allowed to leave on their shoes since it was a Western-style mansion — sounded like peals on a giant bell. "We get to record here?" she almost-whispered, the ceiling making her echoes distended and rich. "I have to be dreaming..."

The walls were white and as smooth as the ceiling. Shiny floorboards extended across the acoustic room. There were no windows; the light came from the four lamps placed haphazardly around the room's edges.

There across the other side of the acoustic room was Terror Firma's set-up. Hitomi's Telecaster, Chiharu's Moog and Korg — plus a lefty model Gibson SG guitar — Ayana's Pearl Sound Check, and Madoka's Urge II. All the instruments were unoccupied, though. Ayana raced to where Madoka sat cross-legged on the floor, tuning a violin.

_They really were about to attempt Rozen Maiden, weren't they? _Ritsu thought with a smile.

Set up near the center of the room was a computer and a pile of mics and cables. The mics weren't the sort Yui had ever seen before in all her moments on stage. Not the kind with a ball of chrome at the end of a handle. These were shaped like little round cylinders with chrome at the ends conforming to their shape. They were so alien to the guitarist that she could only stare in wonder.

Chiharu, noticing Yui's fascination with the mics, picked one up and explained, "These are special microphones for recording. They deliver much more lucid sound quality than the live boom mics in concerts, though they're quite expensive."

"What're these?" Yui asked. She was holding a circular plastic frame which encased a thin screen of foam.

"These lend your voice even more clarity," the brune ojou responded, taking the screen. She hooked it up to a clip on the mic so it hovered a mere inch from the chrome. "If you breathe into the mic now, it won't sound crackly or anything." She paused, her hooded green eyes focused on the filtered mic in her paw. Then, with a diffident grunt, she placed it back in the pile. "We won't need these for some time yet, though...Vocals always get recorded last. Hell, all we might be doing tonight is drums."

Mio, Yui, Azusa, and Mugi looked at Ritsu. Then they looked at each other. This was going to be a long night.

"Were...you guys recording as well?" the kouhai queried as Chiharu and Ritsu proceeded to set up the drums by the computer.

"We were going to do a live recording of a new song of ours," the brune ojou responded, struggling with the bass drum. Set it down lightly she did, but the resulting _THUD _still sounded practically explosive in the acoustic room. "Just something we do for fun..."

"Pssh, modesty," Hitomi grinned. "Chiharu wrote this ditty herself, 'n it's dandy!" Displaying a bit more gusto than any of the previous times Mio had met her, the guitarist aggressively pressed her girlfriend's head into her armpit, knuckles grinding into her scalp.

"It isn't all that..."

Yui smiled, her eyes shining with interest. "You write songs, Chiu-chan? Even that one about middle-distance running?"

Terror Firma's keyboardist struggled to free herself of Hitomi's vice-like hold. She gasped as she felt the guitarist's breasts pressing into her back. Tearing herself free, she corrected, "Chiharu." Then she replied, "Yes. I'm, uh...the band's lyricist."

Mio tilted her head, finding a new respect for this enigmatic wealthy keyboardist. Whilst Yui had been taken with the guitar solos and piano trills in Terror Firma's songs last week, the bassist found herself enticed by the lyrics. They were _good _lyrics, with beautiful poetic words to adorn the addictive catchy melodies. Terror Firma had cast themselves with a certain audience, yes — the melancholy social outcasts who loved reading _The Catcher in the Rye _and listening to Donovan on vinyl because that's the way he should be listened to — but there was nothing cheesy or gimmicky about them. They sang lyrics people could _really _identify with: Mio had identified herself with the line "_I swapped my innocence for pride/Cursed the end within my stride_."

_She's gotten me into a bit of trouble, _thought Mio, who still owed Ritsu two thousand yen, _but Chiharu-chan's really got something with those songs. _The raven-haired girl wondered where she got her inspiration.

"Chiharu-chan."

The girl in question had been miking up Ritsu's drums when she heard her name. She looked at Mio.

"Could we...hear this new song...of yours?"

Chiharu, still hovering about the Hipgig, tinkering with the various little mics, raised an eyebrow. "You want to hear it? Really?" She didn't sound eager, but Mio, as a lyricist herself, knew the keyboardist didn't pen these songs just to refuse to play them for people. Ayana seemed to understand this, as did Madoka, who set aside her violin to strap on her bass.

Chiharu, seeing this, snapped, "Oi! It doesn't mean we're going to play it!"

"Well, why not?" Ayana whined, tapping her sticks together. "I like 'Lazy Jun'! It's got the best beat since 'Electronic Renaissance.'"

"'Lazy Jun'?" Azusa smirked in recognition of her sarcastic bebopping chum. "Is that seriously the title of it?" _Wait'll Jun-chan hears that she's actually the lazy one! Hah!_

"'Lazy Line Painter Jun,'" Hitomi nodded, her thumbs hooked in her belt loops. She nudged her girlfriend, who was moaning and covering her reddening face with her hands. "C'mon, Chiharu. Let's play it."

The keyboardist shook her head. "I can't sing those embarrassing lyrics..."

"Then why did you write them?" Ayana cackled.

"Chiharu-chan." The ojou heard her name again, but it was the unyielding firmness of the voice that made her raise her face from her hands. Mio remained where she stood, her measured alto voice pealing in the resonant silence of the acoustic room. "They're embarrassing only if you think they are."

Chiharu's virude eyes unhooded as she considered this. Then her hand clenched in determination, and her chin jerked in a resolute nod. As she made her way to her keyboards, she paused and glared over her shoulder. "We. Are. RECORDING after this. Got it?"

Five heads bobbed, cowed and chastised.

With a deep, reverb-drenched twang, Hitomi's Telecaster pushed off her girlfriend's new creation — a throbbing little piece of white punk soul about an aimless hipster looking for a bit of inspiration to raise her above the usual mundanity. The guitarist stepped up to the mic and sang softly but strongly, drawing in their listeners and welcoming them, supplying her own Kansai twang:

"_You're working the village shop  
>Putting the poster up<br>Dreaming of anything  
>Dreaming of the time when you are free from all the trouble you're in.<em>

_In the mud on your knees  
>Trying hard not to please<br>Anyone, all the time  
>Being a rebel's fine,<br>But you go all the way to being brutal."_

"_You will have a girl tonight,_" Madoka sang in her deeper, but still distinctly Kansai voice. "_You will have a girl tonight/On the first bus out of town/On the first bus out of town._"

After that refrain Chiharu sang, and her voice stunned Afterschool Tea Time. Shimmering, booming, almost an instrument in itself. An alto voice with the unadorned quality of a Kantou native belonging to a solemn girl who sang:

"_So let's see your kit for games  
>All the girls look the same<br>You are challenging style for running miles  
>You're running miles in some girl's jumper<em>

_Boo to the business world!  
>You know a girl who's tax-free on her back and making<br>Plenty cash  
>While you are working for the joy of giving.<em>

_You will have a girl tonight..."_

So went the chorus, after which a bout of clapping followed. A sparse, yet addictive rhythm. _Clap-clap clap. Clap-clap clap. _After that all the instruments dropped away to make room for Madoka's none-too-sparingly plucked bassline. Hitomi sang:

"_You are in two minds  
>Tossing a coin to decide whether you should tell your folks<br>About a dose of thrush you got while licking railings."_

Chiharu joined her, their voices as deeply entwined as the lovers themselves:

"_But you read in a book  
>That you got free in Boots<br>There are lotions, there are potions  
>You can take to hide your shame from all those prying eyes.<em>

_Lazy Jun, all the time  
>Painting lines<br>You are sleeping at bus stops,  
>Wondering how you got your name<br>And what you're going to do about it."_

The song was now in a two-chord groove, the equal of the Velvet Underground at their syncopated best, the swirling boom of the acoustic room almost an instrument in itself. It had reached a point of such vast life-affirming joyfulness that when Hitomi's "River Deep" riff which signaled the song's closing moments starting bringing it all back home, it was almost an affront, a rude reminder that this manna couldn't groove on forever. And when it did end in a clanging bucket of spent echo, the five Light Music Club members were left exhausted, exhilarated, just like Painter Jun on her back doing it for the joy of giving.

Panting, Chiharu leaned a bit over her keyboards, her ruddy face glittering with sweat. There was even a darkening bloom of sudor in the small of her back through her green shirt. The brune ojou looked up at her five wide-eyed spectators and immediately regretted playing this song for them. _A stupid little song about a stupid little made-up girl. God, they're gonna laugh. _Ineffectively concealing her embarrassment, Chiharu looked back down and growled, "Well, that's it. Now we gotta get to re—"

She stopped herself short as a trickle of applause rippled in the acoustic room. Knowing it was her band's wont to pantomime applause at the end, the keyboardist hesitated to look up at her five guests. But they were clapping, beaming, praising, and the rest of Terror Firma was applauding as well.

"I don't know what that was about," Ritsu grinned, "but I loved it!"

"I feel like I'm a bit like Lazy Jun," Yui claimed.

Azusa smirked wisely. "You would fall asleep at bus stops — in fact, I'll bet you already have!"

The elder guitarist giggled, making no effort to refute this.

"You far surpass me as a songwriter, Chiharu-chan!" Mio exclaimed breathlessly. Her dove-colored eyes swam exquisitely as she approached her old classmate. "You could wipe the floor with me!"

Chiharu blushed deeply and shook her head fervently, the corners of her mouth rigid. "Nah, not really. 'Don't Say Lazy' and 'Fude Pen,' those are genius." She leaned forward far enough to tap Mio's forehead with her index finger, the other one straying up to her own brow. "You and I each have our own worlds up here, and we are masters of those respective worlds. In that, no world is better than the other."

She withdrew her finger sheepishly, and Mio nodded in complete understanding. As a songwriter, the bassist lived in the real world until she didn't, and it would be a long time before she broke out of that zone. While working on a song — picking the perfect word or fine-tuning a melody — she was very hard to reach. And she did feel like the master of her own world built around songs about being young, free, and confused.

Mugi had her hands clasped to her chest, head tilted to the left, eyebrows raised. "Chiharu, I never knew you could write such enchanting songs! That was beautiful!"

Chiharu turned redder as she looked at the blonde girl. She smiled softly. "Y-you really like these songs? Well, uh..." She looked down. When she tugged at the collar of her shirt everyone saw a musty cloud of steam go up. "We didn't play 'When The Cynics Stare Back From The Wall' at Hair, did we?"

"Nawp," Hitomi replied.

Playing with a strand of her short hair, Chiharu looked up at her guests from under heavily lashed hooded eyelids. "Would you like to hear it?"

Mio came within a breath of politely suggesting a more pertinent alternative when Yui burst, "We'd love to! I want to hear more of the Chiu-chan Baby Songs!" Nobody there knew what that last sentence meant either.

"Chiharu," the keyboardist corrected, and with that Terror Firma ran through some songs that hadn't been played at Hair, a couple of which were new. When The Cynics Stare Back From The Wall, American Schlock, There's No Holding Her Back, and Quiet Riot Girl. There was also a swinging ditty written and sung by Madoka, whose deep raspy voice — like Tom Jones, minus the testosterone — lent Fishin' Blues a deeply-felt sexuality. Yui couldn't help but giggle at its innuendo:

_"Do you want to go fishin'  
>Here in my fishin' hole?<br>Said do you want to fish some, honey,  
>Here in my fishin' hole?<br>You want to fish in my pond, baby,  
>You better have a big long pole.<em>

_Before you start in fishin'  
>You better check your line.<br>Said before you start in fishin', honey,  
>You better check on your line.<br>I'll pull on yours, darlin',  
>And you best tug on mine."<em>

Azusa shuddered and forced herself to think about gross things to prevent the humiliation of another nosebleed. Ever since her kotatsu encounter she couldn't bear to think about tugging things. Unluckily for her most if not all of Madoka's songs bore a smouldering torch for one of mankind's most basic urges. Another song she sang shook with this charming line: "_It ain't nuthin' but a barn dance, sugar/It ain't nuthin' but a round-and-round._" One song suggested the bassist's appreciation for good literature, making references to _Rebecca _by Daphne du Maurier, but not without including an appreciation for something else:

_"You know we're going back to MANderley,  
>We're gonna dance on the SANderley,<br>I'm gonna sing with the BANderley,  
>We gonna do all we CANderley,<br>Do me, baby, yeah!"_

They jammed and thrashed and rocked and rolled, without any sunlight or moonlight through a window to tell how much time had passed. Terror Firma was a primarily indie-pop band, yet their songs tended to sample different genres: blues, instrumental, northern soul. Whatever the style, Chiharu shone brightly like a diamond. She appeared nothing like the solemn girl Ritsu and Mio found backstage at Hair, nor was she like the skittish lass from earlier. She was vibrant, she was dancing, she was _rockin'_.

"Hooo," she exhaled after playing Punk Rock Easy Listener. "You guys wore me out a bit." She armed some sweat off her forehead; singing with the banderley was like her cardio. Her small breasts heaving with big breaths, she smiled at Afterschool Tea Time. "I guess I've kept you guys here awhile, huh," she mumbled absently, her eyes straying to her computer, whose blue light pulsed steadily in hibernation. Chiharu's jaw dropped.

"SHIMATTA! RECORDING!"

* * *

><p>"Gomenasai," the brune ojou sighed roughly half an hour later Madoka and Ayana insisted on breaking for supper before diving into recording. After the meal Chiharu finished miking up Ritsu's drums and conducted a thorough check-up on the soundboard to which they were hooked up. At last, at long last, at twenty-six chapters' worth of last (shoot TamaoXNagisa4EVER), they were ready to begin.<p>

"'Salright," Ritsu said, head tilted amicably. The acoustic room was warm, and the drummer had cast off her blazer before seating herself on her stool. She grinned and clicked her sticks together. "Alright! I'm up first!"

Chiharu's mouse-arrow hovered about the red circular REC button. The waves on the track were flat; as the Cakewalk received sounds from the soundboard the waves would jump to life. The keyboardist paused to don headphones, and motioned for Ritsu to do likewise. "You ready?"

"I sure am! Let's do this thing!"

"Alrighty. Five, four, three, two..."

Chiharu clicked the red circle. The recording had begun.

She stared blankly at the flat line extending across the first track. Dead air played through the headphones. Beside her, the drums weren't heard. Ritsu wasn't playing.

"Stop," the drummer ordered.

Chiharu clicked STOP and proceeded to delete the dead air from track one. She looked up questioningly at the brunette.

Ritsu looked at Mio. "What song are we recording first?"

Chiharu's head hit the desk.

"You don't even know what song you want to record? Are you serious at all? Why are you even here? GET OUT!"

Both drummer and bassist shrank away, and the former waved a hand placatingly. "Aw, Chiu-chan, don't be that way."

"Don't call me Chiu! Get out!"

"But you gave us such short notice on the whole recording thing!" Mio objected, rather heatedly.

"It was long enough to choose one song to record first. I won't waste my time on bands who—"

"Fuwa Fuwa Time!" Azusa blurted. Her pregnant echoes filled the room as everyone turned to look at her. Garnet eyes darting conscientously, the kouhai half-settled against, half-hid behind Yui. _That was kind of abrupt, rude even. But I had to save us._

Chiharu raised a bushy eyebrow at Mio. "See? It only took her a second to decide."

"Here's the thing, though," said Ritsu. Seeing that Chiharu's tirade was over, she sat back down on the stool. "I don't immediately play at the beginning of Fuwa Fuwa Time."

"Oh, that's no problem," the ojou said lightly. "Just play how you do when you come in." She explained in layman's terms how she could splice Ritsu's track, and drag the sound recording across the timeline a few seconds or more to where the drummer made her entrance.

Ritsu still seemed uncertain. "I dunno, Chiu-chan. Maybe we should just record Yui-chan first: she plays right from the beginning."

"It's _Chiharu. _And you don't record guitar first — that's just backwards."

Yui turned toward Terror Firma's bass player. "Madoka-chan, how does recording work, anyway?"

Madoka explained, "Individual instruments and vocals are recorded on separate tracks. When the tracks are played simultaneously you have your song. Since drums are the main vehicle for tempo and rhythm, they typically get recorded first. Then bass, then rhythm guitar. Keyboard and lead guitar can be recorded in either order depending on whose part is more prominent. Then backup vocals, and finally lead vocals."

"Oh," Yui nodded, understanding a little.

Ritsu sat poised and tensed over her drums, eagerly awaiting Chiharu's countdown. The keyboardist's hand strayed up, the number of fingers diminishing with the count-in. "Five, four, three, two..."

Everyone, even Chiharu, jumped in surprise as Ritsu blasted into Fuwa Fuwa Time. Instruments have a way of speaking for their musicians, and the Yamaha Hipgig sounded like a white-hot live wire of energy. But there was a problem. Chiharu could hear the drums, alright, albeit only in her right ear. But she heard nothing through the headphones, and not a single wave registered in the track.

"Stop," she called, clicking the said button. She had to call this order a few times before Ritsu slowly, grudgingly stopped playing. "Something's wrong..." Chiharu jumped up to inspect the drums, all the while rubbing her chin and mumbling to herself. "This is strange. Cakewalk's never done anything like this before. Maybe one of the mics are broken?...No, the rest of the drums would still get recorded, and nothing's picking up...Unless they're all broken. No, no. That's not it."

"Chiharu...?"

"Yes, Hitomi?"

"Could it have something to do with this?"

Chiharu ceased pacing and inspecting and pontificating, and looked up. Hitomi crouched between the soundboard and the computer, holding up the jack that plugged the former into the latter. There was something between a question and a jeer in her blue eyes.

The brune ojou's hands dropped to her sides and she shook her head. "Oh, my goodness..." She immediately set about plugging in the soundboard. "I am so off today." She cast a look at Mugi, who was conversing with Ayana, as if blaming the blonde girl for throwing her off.

"You and our gold egg goose of a lyricist got something going on, don't you?" Ayana was snickering. "Got a little thing for her?"

"Oh my, no," Mugi responded with a sheepish giggle. "I'm happily taken, and it seems she is, too. But Chiharu and I are close. We're like sisters."

Hitomi glanced at Mugi sharply.

"Oi, Tsumugi!" Chiharu half-cried, half-groaned. Her expression was one of shock and — Ritsu and Mio recognized from experience — fear.

_Fear of what? Mugi? _Mio wondered. _Why would Chiharu-chan be afraid of Mugi?_

Chiharu had a headache. She closed her eyes and actually groaned this time: "I'm your friend, not your sister. Who do you think I AM?"

Mugi blushed, giggled, apologized, and they moved on with their recording project. By now Ritsu had grown impatient and began rattling her sticks on the hi-hat; Chiharu smiled as waves thrummed away. Now they were all good. All good, except for Mugi, who for the next two months would hear what Chiharu just said over and over.

_I'm your friend...Who do you think I AM?_

* * *

><p>"Stop," Chiharu ordered for the twenty-first time (Mio counted).<p>

Glaring sullenly, Ritsu complied. She hadn't gotten beyond the first four bars of Fuwa Fuwa Time each time the brunette stopped her.

Resenting how the drummer looked at her, Chiharu said, "I'll say it _again, _Tainaka. You need to play with a consistent tempo." Anger flashed through her eyes and she snarled, "Ah, that's the problem, isn't it? I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Okay. _Tempo _is when—"

"I KNOW WHAT TEMPO IS!" Ritsu snapped, making Mio jolt into total wakefulness. The drummer looked about ready to slam the butts of her sticks into Chiharu's skull. _But never, _she thought seethingly. _I'll never misuse my sticks, let alone waste them on Needle Butt here. _Ritsu had taken to comparing Chiharu to a popsicle: frozen over with a stick up her ass.

It was late, very late, and everybody was being worn thin. Everybody that was awake, that is. Yui, Azusa, Mugi, Madoka, Ayana, and Hitomi dozed in a corner like ferrets: all piled and slumped over each other. Mio remained awake, sitting with her back against the wall, arms crossed, eyelids drooping, head nodding.

Ritsu said hotly, "I won't be called stupid by some foo-foo rich—"

"I never called you stupid." Chiharu's voice was level, calm. But Ritsu could hear the patronizing undertones oozing from it.

"You meant that I was stupid."

"No." The brune ojou shook her head and returned her attention to the computer. "I'm sorry you can't distinguish the difference between explaining tempo and calling someone stupid."

Ritsu's blood boiled. Tendrils of smoke curled from her nose.

"Let's try once more, shall we?" The keyboardist dragged and dropped the sound recording into the trashbin.

"Let's shall."

"Cute," Chiharu commented in a snotty voice. Ritsu shot her a glare that would make a bird drop dead from its perch. "Five, four, three, two..."

The drummer hadn't even gotten the first measure in when Chiharu called for her to stop. Twenty-two. Twenty-two failed attempts at recording, exhaustion, and sore hands that may have had fresh blisters sent Ritsu over the edge. Finally, she snapped.

"GUAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOO!" she screeched, sounding a bit like the Palmtop Tiger in a certain anime, throwing down her sticks and headphones. Her outburst, amplified several times over by the acoustic room, woke everybody up in a state of disarray. The drummer stood, heads clutching her aching head. "I'm so tired of this!"

"That makes two of us," Chiharu mumbled, still staring at the computer screen.

With a growl, Ritsu seized the ojou by the collar of her shirt and hauled her up.

"Lemme go!" Chiharu bellowed.

Topaz eyes burning vehemently, Ritsu crowed, "Oh, look who's all calm-arrogant-voice-until-I-have-to-fight! You're nothing but a pampered, decadent rich girl!"

"Ritsu, fuck you!" Chiharu's fatigue drew the oath out into a question. _Ritsuuuu? Fuck yoooouuu? _"I allow you into my home to record your album, and now you THREATEN AND INSULT ME? Fuck you!"

"You wish!" Ritsu cackled.

"I'm warning you," the keyboardist thundered, baring her gritted teeth.

"Thanks for the warning!" And with a mighty shove, the drummer kicked off the famous Tainaka/Yamoto battle royale that would be sung by future Light Music Clubs in years to come. Chiharu had prided herself in being a WASP; but now it seemed her old classmate had stirred up the nest. Still disoriented, the others leaped up to break up the fight. However, doing so would be akin to stopping a life-size pinball in a life-size pinball machine: Ritsu and Chiharu shot and bounced and thrashed all over the place, bouncing off the walls and each other with furious grunts, oaths, and screams.

"I figured you had the tackle of an American football player!" the keyboardist roared, running backwards and dodging blows. "I'll wager you have the weight of one, too!"

_**BOCK! **_Ritsu dealt her a punch that would make her resemble Azusa post-root canal.

The drummer hollered, "Orochi!" _Snake!_

"Enki!" Chiharu retorted, cheek throbbing as the wings of a violet bruise unfurled. _Monkey!_

"Subeta!" _Bitch!_

"Kodomo!" _Baby! _Grinning lopsidedly, Chiharu sneered, "But why should I expect you to act like an adult? You don't even have the _chest _of an adult!"

With an enraged yell, Ritsu again grabbed Chiharu's shirt and threw her against the wall. The drummer rushed forward to pin her when she was stopped from behind. Mio's arms slipped beside her to hook around Ritsu's, pulling her back and up.

Ritsu pitched wildly, trying to break loose. Across the acoustic room, Hitomi likewise restrained Chiharu. "Lemme go, Mio! I'm gonna bust her head inside-out!"

"Yeah, go ahead, enki!" the keyboardist challenged. "You can't play drums worth a damn, but head busting sounds perfect for you!"

The drummer howled venemously and bucked furiously against Mio. "I'll kill you, you wench!"

"Ritsu." The bassist's terrifyingly low voice sounded in her ear, and she could feel Mio's knuckles pressed none too gently against her head. "Who could hurt you more? Me or Chiharu?"

Ritsu had no doubt about the answer to that question. She slumped back in the raven-haired girl's arms, pointing dagger eyes at her adversary.

Tense silence fell. It was like there was a gunman in the room threatening to shoot anyone who moved or spoke...but that was still for another couple months yet.

"Maybe we should go," Mugi suggested in an undertone. Mio nodded assent and dragged Ritsu back, the heels of the drummer's shoes scraping the wood floor.

Hitomi released Chiharu. She was gingerly rubbing her new bruise. "Uh-huh, get some rest," she agreed. "They say sleep makes you smarter. Maybe a good night's sleep will make you a better drummer, Tainaka, but I doubt it."

Ritsu attempted a lunge and stopped when she felt Mio's arm tighten and her knuckles nudge her head warningly.

"Help me get the drums together," she sighed wearily, shrugging free of the bass player's hold.

Chiharu shook her head. "I think you should leave them here."

"Why should I?"

"Because you guys are coming here to record every single day. If you're serious, that is." She smirked at Ritsu, arms crossed. "But if you want to lug your drums back and forth, fine. Won't be my problem when your spine telescopes."

"Point taken," the drummer reluctantly admitted. The rest of Afterschool Tea Time gathered up their instruments and the toboggan. They were just at the acoustic room's applewood door when...

"Tainaka."

Ritsu turned to face Chiharu, a hard expression upon her features.

The keyboardist brought a hand to her nose in an apologetic gesture, though her eyebrows still slanted in anger. "I take back everything I said...for now."

"...Ditto," Ritsu finally nodded.

And with that Afterschool Tea Time took their leave of the Yamoto mansion. At the top of the hill in the starless cold night Mugi glanced at the mansion one last time over her shoulder. The fountain still splashed merrily with its dazzling colors.

"Mugi-chan!" Yui called from up ahead, bringing the blonde ojou out of her reverie, though not completely out

"Hai, I'm coming!" she replied, and dashed off, leaving the Yamoto mansion.

_Who do you think I AM? I'm your...not your...Who do you think I AM?_


	26. Big Mouth Strikes Again

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Big Mouth Strikes Again**

Tainaka Kanako sat up unusually late that Friday night. She was waiting for Ritsu, her daughter and the elder of her two kids, to come home. She had told Kanako and Shoutaro, the father, that she would be out past dinner at an old friend's place. And the old woman knew it was true: if Ritsu had been lying, she would have used that sing-song voice she reserved for telling lies. A voice not unlike the one she used when tearing herself away from Mio — her lips away from Mio's — a week and a half ago.

_I was about to lock up the house and go to bed, _Kanako remembered, setting aside her Stephen King book, _and I opened the door to let Ritsu in, so she wouldn't get locked out, and I found…_She shuddered.

It wasn't like Kanako abhorred homosexuality. In all honesty, she never thought much about it. But now that she knew her daughter was a lesbian — "Are you saying my daughter's a lesbian?" she remembered Shoutaro yelling at that psychology teacher — she had been thinking about it a lot. She thought homosexuality was unusual — but it was unusual in the sense of: if Kanako was, say, standing in a garage with four Honda Civics and one Honda Odyssey. Good cars all, but one was different.

It was sort of like a year ago when Shoutaro was clearing off the tatami — for it had a tendency to get cluttered — and he came upon a text book and a homework paper for an Advanced Placement humanities class. Who, he had wondered, was in humanities? The name scrawled in chicken scratch along the top answered his question. It seemed given the choice between Common Placement intro to humanities and Advanced Placement humanities, their son Satoshi had plumped for the latter. There were parents who had orgasms over achievements like this, but Kanako and Shoutaro were not those parents. To each his own, they said. Choose your own path, they said. Just…

_Why don't they tell us?_

Kanako was not a sick woman. She was not so desperate to know everything about her kids that she would troll Facebook or MySpace to make sure she knew everything. But, for God's sake, she was their _mother. _Couldn't they trust her?

She had decided tonight she would talk with Ritsu when she got home. She didn't know what to say, but the air needed to be cleared. She was tired of skirting this, avoiding this much-needed conversation as if she and Ritsu were strangers. _At the very least, I have to tell her I'm okay with this._

It was just…wow. Mio.

_There _was the shocker. Coming outside to find Ritsu kissing a girl would have hit Kanako a lot less hard if that girl had not been Mio. _She sought Mio-chan out right from the first day of first grade. They were six years old! How sharp _is _her gaydar, anyway?_

From the foyer echoed the tell-tale _ka-chak! _The scuffling of someone removing her shoes, and a minute later a beleaguered Ritsu slumped into the living room, on her way to her bedroom. The way she wore her uniform gave her a scraggly appearance, which was made even more scraggly by her tiredness. She hardly acknowledged Kanako — the weird avoidance thing they had been doing taught the drummer to do so — as she trundled by, slit-eyed and hunched like some tired old snort.

"Ritsu," Kanako called before she could disappear into the dark recesses of the hallway.

The brunette lurched to a stop, back straight with surprise. For the first time her mother was actually acknowledging her. And at one in the morning Ritsu doubted she had stopped her for some mundane reason, like asking her to clean her room. _And Mom's never up this late. Did she wait for me? _Slowly, she turned to face Kanako, looking like the sleepy Holly Golightly facing Paul Varjak at her apartment door in the beginning of _Breakfast At Tiffany's._

"If I could, um, have a word with you…"

This was Kanako's indirect way of saying, _I have a lot to say, so you'd better sit on that couch there. _Nodding, Ritsu threw herself down in all her snort glory.

Kanako stared downward, eyebrows furrowed, the way Ritsu looked when she was genuinely troubled. Ritsu looked quite a bit like Kanako, except for the hair color, and Satoshi was her spitting image. She was of average height with a form that was made voluptuous by two close-succession pregnancies and a prolonged bout of breastfeeding with her firstborn. Her hair was dark and fell to her shoulders, her eyes an aurulent hazel.

"When I walked in on you…er, I guess it was rather _out _on you…uh, you know…" She could feel her head pounding, her ears and wrists, and she imagined Ritsu blushing as well, probably wishing she didn't have to have this conversation. _I don't want to have it either, okay? _"I think we were both pretty embarrassed by it…"

_Embarrassed, yes, _Kanako realized. _It was embarrassing, wasn't it? _It was the same as if, say, she had walked in on Ritsu undressing. Intruding on a private moment, if you will.

"Look. All I want to say is that I'm fine with it. Don't feel like you, you know, have to hide it or anything. If you have problems or anything, you can come to me." Attempting a lame joke Kanako knew only a mom would tell — and partially despising herself for it — she added, "But you probably won't come across any problems. Girls are less confusing than boys, eh? Heheh…"

"Lycopene."

"What?" Kanako looked up to find Ritsu conked out where she sat on the couch, her head back and aside.

_She's always been a sleeptalker, _Kanako thought, arranging a throw blanket under her daughter's chin. _But lycopene? Why is she dreaming about tomatoes?_

She left the living room lights on when she went to bed, trusting that Ritsu would shut them off when she woke up.

* * *

><p>"C'mon, Ritsu. Take it. It's right here."<p>

It was April, 1992. The day was...Oh, who the hell knew? Not thirty-year-old Kanako, who had missed so much sleep the last few nights that days merged into oblivion and every waking moment bore the confused, detached qualities of a dream. As far as time went, the only thing she knew — and she knew it painfully well — was that it was three o'clock in the morning. Three o'clock in the fucking morning, and Ritsu still refused to take the cooling bottle of warm formula Kanako was waving in her plum-colored face.

Another thing Tainaka Kanako, made a mother only eight months ago, was aware of was the _squealing. _The only word she could give for what her daughter did when she was hungry was not screaming, but squealing — the sort that also comes from dragging a metal point across glass. When presented with the cold, hard bottle instead of her mother's warm, soft breast Ritsu's initial cry had been so passionate that at first she made no sound. Then...then came the squeal.

This hardly one-year-old meatloaf who was destroying a thirty-year-old woman's sanity sat in her high chair in yellow footed pajamas. Her face was turning from crimson to purple in her agitation, the creases from her exaggerated expression white in contrast. From behind chubby, raised cheeks peeked shiny, bright, tearful hazel eyes. Her brown hair grew in downy fluffs about these eyes and around her tiny ears.

"Ritsu," Kanako groaned, tapping her forehead against the high chair's edge. "You can't get food from me forever. You gotta be a big girl."

Big girl. There was a compliment that turned into an insult after the girl turns ten.

_Why are you trying to reason with a baby? _Kanako asked herself. Ever since this bottle ordeal sprang up she had been getting a lot of thoughts like that, as well as _Remember how excited you were when you learned you were pregnant? _or _Remember how long you were in labor?_

Kanako gently pointed the bottle closer to the infant's mouth. Ritsu reacted by turning her face away and thrusting small, mittenish hands out, warding. You'd think Mrs. Tainaka was proffering a glowing bottle of polonium.

How do you do this? How do you break it to a baby that there were realities she had to face, that she couldn't get what she wanted?

Usually at this point Kanako realized she was almost forcing this bottle at her terrified child. _What is this, Mama? _she imagined Ritsu's squeals translating to. _I'm hungry! I'm hungry and you give me this? You're horrible! _Afraid that continuing this way would traumatize her, Kanako would then give up the bottle and feed Ritsu herself once more. And that was what she did now.

"Fine," she growled, setting the bottle down on the counter. "I can see that you're determined to send me over the edge." She had been crouching before the high chair, so as not to intimidate Ritsu by offering the bottle from below, and now she stood up straight and hoisted her daughter out of it. Ritsu's glass-squeals intensified for an instant — reaching frequencies that were almost beyond Kanako's human scope — but then they slackened as she felt the familiar warmth of her mother. It was like a precursor to what she wanted, and the baby's cries paused, waiting.

Probably the obvious solution would be to hold the baby and give her the bottle, if softness and warmth were what she craved. But that wasn't it for Ritsu. She wanted the breast. She wanted her mother's food.

When Kanako raised her night shirt over her right breast, like magic her daughter's face paled back to its normal color and the tears vanished as if they had never been. There was no resistance this time; no turning her head away, mouth scrunched up in distaste; no warding little hands pushing this away. Oh, no. She went right for it. Why couldn't she go for the bottle in this same manner?

Kanako hated her breasts, which was ironic considering how in high school she had always wanted them to be bigger. If it was one thing that could turn a lady's honey-don'ts into honeydews, it was pregnancy. But like most things in life, they came with a price — a few prices, in fact. First, there was her posture: Kanako hated knowing from all the glances at the mirror that she looked like a gorilla — shoulders slumped, back hunched and painful (oh, so very painful, especially her upper back), and her ungainly pendulous breasts drooping over her now flabbier stomach. She had wanted a larger rack to look and feel sexier, and this neither looked nor felt sexy.

Then there were the breasts themselves, which Kanako now had to look at whilst Ritsu fed off one, her hazel eyes narrowed contentedly. They were horrid, frightening things that should have only been in movies based off Stephen King novels. They looked and felt like huge boulders; they probably weighed twenty pounds each and had all the softness and conformity of a tree trunk. The areolas were as pink as grapefruits and the size of silver dollars; the nipples distended, stinging, and hard enough to cut diamonds. A ghastly blue vein wove from the areola of her right breast to her armpit, its latticework tributaries spiderwebbing all across the boulder.

She had nightmares about these things. While she was pregnant, she had a nightmare about the baby kicking so hard that one of these things flew up at her face and broke her nose. How could Shoutaro get turned on by these?

Ah, yes. There was that, too.

Above all, she _hated _the way her husband ogled her. If it wasn't bad enough that she had her daughter constantly squealing for her breasts, then she had Shoutaro trying to proposition her for them. Before going to bed it was Kanako's wont to take off her bra before changing into her night shirt because, you know, it's uncomfortable to sleep in a bra. This whatever-night-it-was in April, 1992 she found Shoutaro staring at her, his gray eyes glazed, an erection stretching his boxers like a pitched tent. Kanako made it a point to glower at him in a way that said; _We are NOT stemming the rose tonight. Understand?_

She couldn't tell from his face if he understood. But he made no effort to mount her as she slipped under the covers, so that was alright.

Contrary to what one might think from reading the situation above, Kanako loved making love to Shoutaro. She loved what he did with his hips when he was on top, turning them so that he corkscrewed a bit inside her. She loved the fleshy clapping sound they made when he was thrusting hard and she was arching in response. But you just don't feel like making love when your breasts weigh twenty pounds each, your nipples are stinging, and at any given moment during the act you could spring a leak.

Her head touched the pillow, and Kanako was out. She slept so little ever since Ritsu was born, but when she did sleep she imagined her sleep patterns likened to her daughter's: able to withstand loud explosions. Kanako snoozed deeply , oblivious to everything. She didn't feel the bed shake as Shoutaro jerked off. She only woke up at 3 A.M. to Ritsu squealing.

And so, here we are.

Using her right arm to support her daughter, Kanako lifted her left hand and gently pulled it through Ritsu's downy brown hair, felt the peach-like softness of her skin. Ritsu closed her eyes in response. When she opened them, they were liquid gold orbs. _One day you'll have to do this for your kid. It'll be 3 A.M. and you'll think about how long you were in labor._

Eighteen years later Kanako would not be able to fathom that it was Ritsu's childhood friend who might hold her hand if she was in labor.

Kanako hated her breasts and the fuss her husband and daughter made over them. But she did not hate Ritsu. Breastfeeding did have its upshots. She got to spend time with Ritsu. If her daughter felt like she was one with her mother during this, then Kanako supposed she felt this way, too.

Still...this had to stop.

Shoutaro appeared suddenly in the kitchen then, on his way to the bathroom. He wasn't as chubby back then, but he was still a big, burly guy. In 1992 he had a full head of hair: bronze-brown, shagging. Now after sleeping it stood up like a bird of paradise. His boxers flapped like sails under a barrelesque torso, his white T shirt pulling and shifting across his muscled back.

Kanako hunched her shoulders and looked down. She didn't want him ogling her while she fed their child.

If Shoutaro gave his lust for her breasts any consideration, it was brief. He trundled past, only thinking of emptying that tea he drank into the toilet. As he passed his wife and daughter he rumbled, "Isn't she too old for that?"

* * *

><p>AN

Each K-ON! character gets a backstory on her infancy/childhood which includes a bit on how their parents met and got along and stuff. Ritsu's comes first, then Yui's/Ui's, Jun's after that, then Mugi's, then Sawako's, then Mio's, and finally Azusa's. Satoshi's comes a bit with Mio's, and Nodoka's I'm saving for the sequel (there is a chapter that touches on it, hints at Nodoka's story for the sequel).


	27. The Turtle and the Hare

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven  
><strong>

**The Turtle and the Hare**

Sawako didn't realize there was a problem until it was too late.

Friday night, when she was in high school and college, was date night. It still was, even as the sensei was but three and a half years shy of the big three-oh. Thursday, November 19th, found her getting her hair trimmed for the date she planned for the next day. As she tipped the tow-headed stylist she noticed the nameplate clipped to her shirt. Lotta was her name.

"Are you Finnish?" Sawako asked.

The stylist nodded, pocketing her five hundred yen tip.

"I have a Finnish boyfriend," the teacher said conversationally. It made her shudder, how easy it was to lie and say that Mugi was a guy. "I'm going out with him tomorrow. How do you say 'hello' in Finnish?"

"Hei." It sounded like the Japanese word for 'yes.'

With Lotta's help, Sawako learned some common expressions in Finnish. She drove back to her apartment complex, eager to sweep Mugi off her feet with some Finnish love.

Sawako was crestfallen when the Light Music Club stopped frequenting the music room out of duty to record at Mansion Yamoto. No more tea, no more hanging out, less time spent with Mugi, and it seemed the role of managing and critiquing the band had been passed to a girl nine years' Sawako's junior. However, on this balance sheet, there was one huge plus that outweighed all the minuses: she had more time after school on Friday to prepare for the date.

Mugi was not one to judge people based on appearances, but Sawako still liked to make herself look good. On the 20th, whilst the ojou was trying to get Chiharu to let her go early, the teacher stood before her closet, assessing the potential of this shirt with those pants. That skirt with those shoes. This sweater with that necklace. Anything bought at Salvation Army during her college days was not an option — besides, she kept meaning to get rid of that stuff. Value Village could not go on a date with Versace.

_Rich girls don't marry poor boys, Daisy had said._

_Says you, _Sawako thought defensively.

Romance really was a timeless thing when you got right down to it. A timelessly young and fresh thing. Just the thought of being with Mugi — just having her nearby — made Sawako's face burn so hotly that she had to press it against the freezing window pane. The thought of sex had crossed the woman's mind, of course (and quite a bit of late), but such fantasies didn't bring that particular freshness, that feeling of discovering something inexplicably modern. A manifestation of a new phenomenon — that was the feeling Sawako came away from the window pane with.

At the shave-and-a-haircut rap on the other side of the door, Sawako abandoned everything for it — or rather, the person behind it. She took a moment to compose herself; when you're older than your girlfriend, you should act it. Once she had calmed herself down, she turned the knob and let the chipped sea-green door float open to reveal the girl she was in love with. Leaning coolly against the doorframe, Sawako greeted in a husky voice, "_Hei._"

Mugi brightened at the sensei's use of her mother tongue and grinned, "_Hei._"

The blonde girl was a knock-out — Sawako had to hand it to her. She was wearing a robin's-egg blue sweater made of cashmere that was so soft and hugged her curving form so perfectly it appeared almost liquid. A yellow whale-tale charm nestled in the dark liquid fold across her chest at the end of a thin, glittering chain.

"_Missä opit puhumaan suomea?_" Mugi inquired.

Sawako stared blankly. An oddly overpowering urge to touch Mugi — to feel that cashmere sliding fluidly over her warm flesh — struck her. It was this stupefying desire and her lack of comprehension of Finnish that prompted her to reply with, "_H-hei._"

"Is that all the Finnish you know?"

"_Rakastan sinua," _Sawako responded. This meant 'I love you,' though the teacher's mispronunciation and stilted Japanese accent flubbed it up quite a bit.

"Yes, that is all the Finnish you know," the ojou giggled.

When she leaned in for a kiss Sawako knew that if she touched that sweater, got a feel of Mugi's body through the lucious cashmere, she would have to sleep with her tonight. Absolutely have to. So, when the brunette tilted her head to intercept her girlfriend's full, slightly parted lips, she made it a point to gently cup Mugi's heated cheek, to gently run her hand through the shiny Scandinavian gold of her hair.

Unfortunately, Mugi reached her hands — vibrating and spinning, alive, with her hot blood — to hug her girlfriend around her neck. Sawako felt the cashmere slip first past her bare forearm, then settle smoothly about her neck. What was more, she felt Mugi press herself against her; her breasts upon Sawako's felt even softer than the material of her sweater. And that was it. That settled it. If she could, the teacher would go to bed with her student and get a feel of what was underneath that cashmere.

If she could, that is. That was the problem.

Sawako kissed Mugi one more time, more deeply, her silken tongue stealing within the keyboardist's mouth. Mugi hummed, as she was wont to do when she was feeling amorous.

"So what's on the agenda for tonight?" she asked when she pulled back.

"Well..." The teacher kept her voice low and husky, hoping she didn't sound pitiful. She let her response trail out, pulling Mugi inside her apartment, thinking this would maybe get the message across. It didn't.

"Asumi-san gave you those free bowling passes, didn't she?" Mugi asked brightly, her eyes lighting up. "I've always wanted to go bowling!"

"You've never been bowling?" Sawako still had white-hot lust for the ojou shooting through her veins, but she had planned to go bowling with her. "Well, that just won't do!"

She grabbed her jacket and the bowling passes, shut off the lights, and left her apartment with Mugi. She struggled to ignore the cashmere shifting and slipping over her body.

* * *

><p>Sawako supposed she could blame Asumi for stoking this desire within her. Her cousin had called her a week ago to ask her if she might like free passes to go to the Tori Bowl in Tokyo.<p>

"Bowling's nice and all," Asumi had said, "but it's just not mine and Kaede's thing. So, whaddya say? Take Mugi-neesan out for a night of bowling?"

"Umm, sure," Sawako had responded. Then she made the mistake of asking, "How are things with Kaede-san, anyways?"

"Hot," was Asumi's immediate reply. "Oh so friggin _hot._" It was then the bartender from Nara urged her elder cousin to fuck Mugi-neesan (her words) if she hadn't already. "Pianists are _so-o-o-o _good in bed," she said, drawing out the word 'so' on a passionate sigh. "Have her play some Mozart on you. Or Beethoven. _Für Elise _particularly feels good. Hey. If her fingers could do that to those keys, imagine what they could do to you."

_People are sexy when they play the piano, _Sawako thought three hours later, leading Mugi back to her apartment.

"Are you sure you've never been bowling before?" she asked, incredulous, and her own ivory-tickling significant other giggled.

Mugi had wiped the floor with Sawako at Tori Bowl, beating her 300 to 229. The sensei had hardly noticed that her girlfriend was achieving the most perfect score she had ever seen in bowling. All she could focus on was how perfectly the blue cashmere hugged the curve of her breast, the smooth, bright material interrupted with heavily-shadowed folds at just the right places on the rest of her body.

_How can a sweater be so damn sexy? _Sawako wondered. She realized now that every step brought them closer to her apartment, and her opportunity to sleep with Mugi.

When they got to her door the teacher got a handful of that tantalizing cashmere. While enticing Mugi with several slow, intimate kisses — kisses that made the ojou's knees so weak she had to lean back against the doorframe — Sawako realized her fantasy of manually exploring her body. The glossy cashmere slid over the keyboardist's supple skin with so much fluid ease. The older woman brought her hands down to Mugi's gently sinuous waist, and she could feel her natural warmth, her hot pulse fluttering just underneath her flesh. Slowly, hesitantly, Sawako allowed one hand to submerge itself under the cashmere, and...Mugi was allowing it, too. The sensei moaned quietly as her girlfriend's skin scalded her palm.

"So what do you say, missie?" she whispered, pulling back. "Do you think you might want to stay the night?"

She continued pulling her hand across Mugi's skin, her waist, her back, her tummy; and she could see the ojou watching her lump of a hand slinking about underneath the sweater. _She likes it, _Sawako realized. _She's going to say yes. _She couldn't wait to get Mugi in bed. Suppressing moans, she leaned in to shower the blonde girl with more kisses. Her caressing hand was just over her navel, and now it began to climb upwards, its movements slow and blocky, like a turtle...

Mugi, with a squeak, abruptly broke the embrace there. She did not tear herself from Sawako's arms, but the manner with which she dislodged herself was rough nonetheless. The teacher's hand was suddenly out in the cold, groping thin air.

"I think I might not," she replied in a gust of breath. Her face was bright red. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

In high school Sawako would have glumly gone along with this, resigning herself to her hand for the night. Three and a half years shy of the big three-oh, she called a time-out before Mugi could squeak out of there.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"I know," the ojou nodded. "But Chiharu wants us all at the mansion as early as possible. She's hoping we can finish Curry Nochi Rice tomorrow." She then came in for one final kiss goodbye, suffusing the teacher in her Kotatsumugi warmth one last time, and withdrew, whispering apologies.

That would be the start of one of the most daunting and frustrating relationship strifes Sawako had ever faced.

* * *

><p>She had dated a guy with OCD in college once. When people think OCD, they think compulsive hand-washing and perhaps rigid cleanliness. This man was clean, but scruffy, with longish hair that fell in clumps around his eyes and shoulders. His habits and routines were odd, even annoying at times. He and Sawako argued like cats and dogs about his firm disinclination to get in a car — hell, whenever he saw an El Camino he had to wash his hands, had to scrub that unlucky El Camino off. He either excluded Sawako from his routines or tried to force them on her, and she couldn't decide which was worse. One of his routines was to count the nuts and bolts he had in separate jars, and when Sawako once accidentally interrupted his counting, his angry explosion over it bordered on violent. They had gone out for a year, which was amazing. All of her friends, all of her close relatives, they couldn't understand how Sawako and this headcase lasted so long. What was their secret?<p>

They were having sex. That was their secret.

And frankly, the sex was incredible. Sawako was drunk on all the great, addictive sex she was having with this lunatic.

Romance was timeless, yes. It was the touch of a match to the kindling of a relationship. It could keep you up at night and guide you through the hardest of hardships and maybe even move mountains. But in all honesty, once you reach a certain age — once you become an adult — if there's no sex, the romance flame quickly dies, leaving the relationship as nothing but a pile of dead ashes.

Afraid of this happening, Sawako thought she could at least ask Mugi why she was so adverse to sleeping with her. There had only been one relationship in the past where someone refused her propositionings the way Mugi did — that guy had turned out to be gay. The possibility of Tsumugi being straight was out of Sawako's conscious as soon as it got in. _Her, straight? No way. If Mugi-chan's straight, then Michael Jackson's still alive and moon-walking somewhere._

Next Friday, which was November 27th, they went out to Kuma's Corner. The restaurant recommendation came from Norimi, who was, like the Finnish hair stylist, in the dark about who her old metalhead buddy was really dating. So it hardly came as any surprise to Sawako when she and Mugi entered the smoke-clogged restaurant with Van Halen's 'Runnin With The Devil' blasting from the speakers. Their host greeted them — she was a small woman, all pierced and tatted up, with her black hair in a little puptail — and led them to a booth near the back.

_This is her recommendation, alright, _Sawako thought, her brown eyes drifting to take in the place. It was sparsely lighted, like a bar, and indeed there was one on the left side of the tiny restaurant. Going farther up the aisle took you to their outdoor seats, but no one in their right mind wanted to eat outside in November — especially today, the day of 2009's first snow. Surprisingly, the customers who frequented Kuma's were completely ordinary people — hipsters, middle-aged guys, etcetera.

'Runnin With The Devil' gave way to 'Androgynous' by the Replacements just as Sawako turned her head and croaked in horror.

"You noticed it, too, Sawa-chan?" Mugi inquired, blushing.

Unfortunately, Sawako had. The wall closest to them was a mural-collage of possibly every naked-chick motorcycle ad in history. The teacher had never seen so much skin in a public setting. Part of her wanted to admonish the owner of this place — they admitted people of all ages, for Christ's sake. Yet another part of her pointed out, _You're only uptight about this because you want to sleep with Mugi-chan. _Thank God she wasn't wearing that sweater that would put Jane Mansfield to shame.

Sawako noticed that most of the naked women, if not all of them, had blonde hair. What was it with people and blonde girls? What about blonde girls got guys so hard? Looking back at Mugi, though, prompted the sensei to ask herself, _What about your blonde girl gets you so wet? _Without thinking, she slipped her right foot out of its flat and slid it up Mugi's pant leg, caressing.

"In all seriousness, though," said the keyboardist, glancing again at the mural, "this is simply shameful. What must their mothers think of them?"

"Hold that thought," Sawako replied whimsically. "I see an ad right here —" she pointed "— of a naked lady on a bike and her naked mother in the sidecar."

She had half a mind to excuse herself to go to the bathroom just to yell at Norimi over the phone. Sawako would _never _bring a date here, male or female, to a bar with bare pairs of breasts all over the walls. This had nothing to do with her need to do the deed with Mugi (there was just simply no class in bringing a date here), though Sawako had to wonder. Between Asumi talking about all the gun-busting sex she was having and Norimi recommending a tit-tacular restaurant for date night, the woman couldn't help but wonder if there was some synergy going on. If everyone close to her was teaming up to get her laid.

_Am I getting annoying? _she wondered. _That can happen when you haven't gotten any in a long time._

Despite the gratingly loud heavy metal, the throat-stinging smoke, and the T and A slapped all over the walls, the food was great. Extraordinary, even. Now Sawako could see why Norimi recommended this place. The gut busting Kuma Burger was a blessing from Clogged-Artery Heaven, with crisp onion straws and a runny-yolk fried egg on top. The other burgers, Sawako noticed with some amusement, were named after heavy metal bands. Mugi ordered the Black Sabbath burger.

If indeed Norimi's mission had been to get Sawako laid, she was unsuccessful. With her stomach full of Kuma Burger and her heart full of fire, the sensei had once again, at her apartment door, attempted to coax Mugi into her bedroom. She had her younger, but no less beloved, girlfriend leaning against the doorframe once more, delirious with all the exquisite kisses they were sharing. She allowed Sawako to settle her hips in between her legs; there were even times when the older woman could have sworn she felt Mugi's hips jerking up in response to her grinding. The ojou was letting her go far, though not as far as Sawako wanted; she drew the line when the teacher's hand came up to cup her velvety-soft breast through her (wool) sweater.

Humming, Mugi pulled herself out of Sawako's embrace. "Maybe I should get going," she murmured, yawning. "I'm tired..."

_What was wrong here? _This frustrating thought whirled through Sawako's brain like an angry hornet. This frustration almost blew her aching eyes right out of their sockets. _Is it her? Is it me? Does she find me repulsive? _That last thought hurt her like an adder sinking its venomous teeth into her heart, and suddenly she had bitterness running through her veins. In a brusque voice, she said shortly, "Well, have a good night's sleep, then," and disappeared inside her apartment, shutting the door forcefully.

She leaned against the wall of her dark entryway, trying to steady her hitching breaths. The throbbing in her eyes contended with the throbbing in her thighs — was it possible to be miserable and horny at the same time? She hated feeling mad at Mugi, her anger turning the sweet blonde girl into some kind of monster. But the keyboardist had rejected her — rejected her love. Sawako was not looking to deflower or humiliate Mugi. She wanted to make love to her. She wanted to hold her during that vulnerable moment in lovemaking where that slumbering volcano within you erupts, hold her and tell her that very vulnerable thing as those waves ebbed away, leaving the ojou glowing and exhilarated. _I love you._

Why didn't she want that?

Sawako was both relieved and angry when she heard rapping on her door. Of course. Mugi's intuition was scarily accurate, and if she suspected the brunette was upset, she would try to console her. Sighing, she opened her door.

"What's going on up there?" Mugi queried gently, tapping Sawako's forehead.

The teacher stared at her student for a moment, and all her lust drained out of her. Now she just felt tired. That Kuma Burger was weighing down her eyelids, making them droop. Still, she posited that question that had been dogging her for the past week.

"Why won't you sleep with me?"

Mugi's head sank a little, a gesture that said she had suspected this was the problem.

"Is it because it's your first time?"

God, first times never went well. Particularly Sawako's. She had traded in her V-card at the irresolute age of nineteen; it had been with a guy she had been seeing for a month. Jackrabbit sex. That was the only way Sawako could describe that experience. The guy, who would forever be known as the jackrabbit, gave the sexual term 'pounding' a whole new meaning. It was like masturbating with a girl: rough. He didn't know what he was doing, and she didn't say a word. Sawako actually threw her neck out.

If she could make love to Mugi, she would make sure the ojou had a far better first time than she had.

First time jitters would have been a more acceptable excuse compared to the one Mugi actually gave her.

"I don't want to go too fast."

"You don't want to go too fast," Sawako echoed stupidly.

The keyboardist nodded, looking up. "I know we've known each other awhile now, but I don't think we should do such things when we've only been dating a month. It just seems like a bad idea," she shrugged.

The sensei stared at her, unsure of what to say. The response _It's not necessarily a bad idea _sounded dumb.

Mugi shuffled a foot and played with a flaxen ringlet of hair. "Mother and Father went too fast, if you know what I mean. They got married because they went too fast." She stopped shuffling and laid a hand across her collarbone. "I'm a product of their fast-moving relationship."

Sawako suddenly remembered the Studio 5 chat they had with that woman in Hair and smiled in spite of herself. _So Mr. Playboy knocked up Miss Swiss, eh? _She still found it amusingly hard to believe that Holt was capable of such virility.

"We won't end up like your parents."

_We could. _That was the thought that haunted Mugi nowadays. Maybe there was a Kotobuki curse. _Doomed are those with the molten Kotobuki blood in their hearts to matrimonies fraught with strife. _If there was any way to break this curse, Mugi would do it.

Hesitantly, she said, "I do want to, Sawa-chan."

Sawako smiled and touched her wrist. "Then come on."

Mugi looked down at the slight, feminine hand, the thumb and first two fingers gently encircling her wrist. She shifted her hand so she could squeeze Sawako's, burning the sensei in her fiery hand's embrace. She shook her head, lifted the hand so she could touch the back of it to her lips, just like the lady she was raised to be.

"Not tonight. I don't think we should have to rush things. We're having fun, aren't we?"

Sawako tilted her head in agreement.

"I should go now. I really am tired." She released her girlfriend's hand and covered her yawning mouth. The first yawn had seemed kind of fake, but this one was real. "Thanks for a great time, Sawa-chan." She leaned in to kiss her goodbye, and when she pulled back she chirped, "And hey: the next time we see each other outside of school we'll be going to Switzerland!"

"I'm looking forward to it," the teacher smiled. After a pensive pause she queried, "Does Veronique-san know about you and me?"

"Not yet." Seeing the uneasy look on her girlfriend's face, Mugi assured, "It's okay, Sawa-chan. The Swiss are wonderfully lax when it comes to matters of love. And I have a feeling you and my mother are going to get along extremely well. She's a laugh a minute."

Sawako smiled again, this time more warmly. Here she was, about to meet her girlfriend's mom — and a vacation to Switzerland, to boot. Sawako would make love to Mugi by laughing with her flippant mother before she would get to make a franker, more physical sort of love to the ojou.

It was then Sawako had this thought: _Every decision you make, great or small, shapes your future. And things do work out. _Maybe the two of them wouldn't make love tonight, but they would, just as long as they had love to make. This love Sawako had for the girl flouncing down to the end of the hall and hanging a right toward the elevator was neither romantic nor sexual. It was only love in its own right.


	28. A Year Older, a Year Dumber

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight  
><strong>

**A Year Older, A Year Dumber**

November 27th was a very special day for a certain guitarist. It was eighteen years ago that day when two clueless seventeen-year-olds named Hirasawa Taiki and Kadoma Tsubasa were blessed with a baby girl. And lo, they were a family.

Ui was, of course, the first person to celebrate Yui's eighteenth birthday with her. She did it first thing just as her oneechan was waking up.

"Rise and shine, birthday girl," Ui commanded in a soft but bubblingly happy whisper, shaking the said birthday girl awake.

Yui rose, but she didn't shine…not until she was presented with a chocolate cupcake with pink icing and a candle on top. Then her face lit up with a brightness to rival the swerving flame upon the candle. Beaming, she eagerly accepted the cupcake.

Ui started to sing, "Happy birthday to you—"

Yui blew out the candle, pulled it out of the frosting, and stuffed half the cupcake in her mouth.

Ui giggled. Her sister had always done that since they were little — too excited for the cake to wait for everyone to finish singing.

After the cupcake was devoured in two bites, Ui led Yui into the kitchen, asking, "Do you want your present now or at dinnertime?" She already knew the answer.

"Now!" Yui cheered, the sugar from the birthday treat already doing its work. She pumped her fists eagerly. "Can I have it now, Ui?"

"You sure can." Ui had the present she had bought, wrapped, and hidden a month in advance on the tatami amid a spread of French toast and corned-beef hash — oneechan's favorite breakfast. Nestled underneath the silk ribbon were two cards: one from Ui, and one from Mr. and Mrs. Hirasawa. The latter had come by mail just two days ago — they mistimed how long it would take to arrive in Japan, y'see — and the younger girl had hidden it with her card and present.

Squealing, Yui knelt before the tatami, grabbing the present. She carefully weighed it in her hands, trying to gauge what it was. It was light, and the box was thin and rectangular. Probably an article of clothing of some sort. This excited Yui further, for Ui always bought people extraordinary clothes.

The guitarist immediately set about tearing off the wrapping paper. She knew Ui preferred to carefully remove the wrapping paper from presents, but Yui felt like ripping off the paper rounded out the experience more. When they were little, Ui insisted that the card should be opened before the present. But seeing as Yui was…well, Yui, the younger sister quickly figured out this mode of gift unwrapping wasn't going to change.

Once the wrapping was pulled away Yui yanked the white gift-box open. When she saw what was inside, her jaw dropped. "_Wow!_" she exclaimed, her admiration totally unaffected. "_Thanks!_"

It was a sweatshirt Yui had found over at Noonan's, a clothing store in one of Harajuku's many malls, and instantly fell in love with. Royal purple in color, this sweatshirt had 'AWESOME POSSUM' across the front in white bold letters. This was a little over a month ago, a few days after Ui's seventeenth birthday, and the ponytailed girl had been there when Yui dismally noted that the Awesome Possum shirt was beyond her budget. Later that evening Ui returned to Noonan's on a mall trip with Jun and Azusa to buy that shirt with her birthday money.

Ui had already snipped the tag off, for she knew Yui would pull the sweatshirt over her head. She did just that and sat there giggling, glowing in a simple pride of having Awesome Possum printed across her chest. Then she opened the cards; Mr. and Mrs. Hirasawa's included a check for ten thousand yen.

"Man, this shirt's the coolest!" Yui smiled, admiring the upside-down letters. "Thanks so much, Ui!"

"N-no problem." Ui was stuttering from laughter more than embarrassment. The shirt _was _cute, and oneechan wearing it was even cuter.

Startling Yui was no easy task, but Ui did it that morning. Basking in the glow of her oneechan's praise and feeling extra-confident just because it was Yui's birthday, Ui leaned across the tatami and planted a kiss upon her cheek. She was not too quick to pull back. "Happy birthday," Ui said softly.

"Th-thanks," Yui squeaked, a little more than fazed. That kiss didn't feel like a sister kiss. It felt like…well, how she kissed Azusa sometimes, she supposed.

* * *

><p>Sadly, Yui could not wear the Awesome Possum shirt to school. She found this out the hard way when she arrived at Sakuragaoka with the shirt pulled over her blazer. A steady mist fell that freezing morning, but in her Awesome Possum shirt Yui felt warm, dry, and awesome.<p>

The shirt earned her quite a few compliments from classmates, fellow Light Music Club members, and even first years whom she had never met before. But when she met Sawako on the way to homeroom the sensei did not look pleased.

"Shirt off," she ordered.

"It's my birthday, Sawa-chan!"

"Happy birthday. Now take the shirt off."

"Isn't it cool, Sawa-chan? Isn't this the most awesome shirt you've ever seen?"

"It's very cute, but you can't wear it in school."

_I don't think she's hearing the second thing I keep saying, _Sawako thought as Yui continued to babble about the shirt. She thought to step forward and physically yank the shirt off, but then she remembered spring when she had tried to get Yui out of her track pants. Good thing Tokudaiji wasn't there, or else she really would have been in the soup with the Headmistress.

…Though, lately, the psych teacher didn't bother her much about Mugi. He looked a little frightened these days.

Now he trudged past as Sawako insisted, "You can't wear that shirt in school, Hirasawa-san!"

"Don't get deferential on me, Sawa-chan," Yui pouted.

"That's right," Tokudaiji nodded. "You can't be a friend and a teacher at the same time. It's not cool."

"Would you piss off already?" Sawako snapped. "I'm so tired of all your crap!"

"For now," he responded, smiling thinly, "I will 'piss off,' as you put it." Frowning, he regarded Yui with a shake of his head and a wave of his pen. "Only the standard Sakuragaoka uniform can be worn on campus. Remove the shirt or else it will be confiscated."

"Hai, sensei," Yui grumbled, her hands coming up to pull the sweatshirt over her head.

* * *

><p>A quaint little celebration was held in Music Room 3 after school. With Chiharu granting the band a day off and wishing Yui a happy birthday with only the faintest hint of a smile upon her lips, they had the whole hour and a half to drink tea and eat cake — which was a better present the guitarist could have asked for than the gift boxes her friends proffered her.<p>

Everyone was here for this occasion — even Nodoka, Ui, and Jun. The last of the three had the music room rocking with her jokes until Yui realized Ritsu was not there.

"I'm not sure where she is," Mio grumbled, with a note of irritation in her voice, when the brunette asked. "She just ran off after music technology without telling me where she was going or what she was doing."

As if on cue, the door slammed open with so much power that everyone's hearts leapt into their throats. Ritsu trotted in, singing out a hearty greeting, her right hand thrown forward while her left hand dragged in her whining little brother.

"Ricchan!" Yui cheered, throwing her hand out in return. "Is that my present?"

Yui's "present" flushed bright red, both at the question and at all the girls staring at him. His hazel eyes drifted from one intrigued stare to the next. _Never seen so many girls, _he thought, shoving his sweaty hands deep into the pockets of his uniform. _Don't know where to look first._ But he did. His nervous yet heated gaze settled on the pigeon-gray eyes of Akiyama Mio.

"Why did you bring Satoshi?" she asked, her deep velvet voice more bemused than irritated.

"He's here to help with that virus the teachers have on their database," Ritsu responded. She had picked up on this bean of info aiding in the fine arts department.

Sawako narrowed her eyes. "Tainaka-san, I wouldn't let a student of Sakuragaoka near the teachers' computers, let alone a perfect stranger."

The corners of the drummers mouth turned up in a grin that was so mischievous it could only be rivaled by the Cheshire Cat of yore. She uttered a high-pitched giggle in a voice she blatantly copped from Suiseiseki. "Eeheehee…Then I suppose the other staff members will have to find out about a certain fine arts head who spends her free time downloading music and anime from uTorrent, desu. What was her name now, desu…?"

Sawako's face faded to an ashen color to match the cloudy skies outside. Her hand, reduced to almost liquid-pulpy weakness in her horror, slipped flaccidly from the tabletop. And it was decided then: Tainaka Satoshi would rid the Sakuragaoka database of its seven hundred-plus Trojan viruses.

Elsewhere in Japan, an S.O.S. Brigade Chief nods her head in approval.

Though there were male teachers at Sakuragaoka, a boy was still a rare sight for the students. Yui, Azusa, Jun, Mugi, Nodoka — their eyes followed the boy Tainaka as he made his way to a computer in a little office adjacent to Music Room 3. He kept his eyes down, not daring to look at any of these girls. His school was an all-boys school, so the sight of the opposite gender (neechan aside) was rare for him as well. And — he wasn't going to deny this — all these girls, with their soft hands and soft eyes and soft voices, everything about them so _soft, _got him excited. It wasn't anything to the point of him getting an erection, just a faint tingle in the tip of his penis. Satoshi kept his eyes down, away from these soft girls, so that the excitement would _stay _at that level.

However, ironically, it was because he was looking downward that he didn't see Ui coming at an angle beside him, on her own journey across the room to fetch some candles for the cake. His foot met her ankle, and when they stumbled awkwardly, not unlike losing contestants on _Dancing With The Stars, _and fell to the hardwood floor his unprotected face met her pantied yoni.

And so Satoshi met Ui.

As for the others, they really didn't know what to say. Even Ritsu and Sawako, the wisecracks, were lost for words. Had Satoshi and Ui fallen some other way of course the proper thing to say would be "Are you okay?" But Ui had landed with her kitty in his face, plus Satoshi was a fourteen-year-old boy, so everything was okay for him.

The smell of her panties filled his nose, mouth, and throat, and his eyes began to swirl languidly. It was a scent that was hard to describe: sweet, definitely, a clean sort of sweet — but not the soapy kind of clean-sweet. It was the smell of femininity. Of that Satoshi was completely certain. He knew no guy would ever smell like this. And was it just him or were her panties slightly moist…?

That tingling began to spread, becoming a warm, bubbly throb, and he frantically tried to thrash his way out from under her. With her panties above him and her supple thighs on either side of his head, escape was nigh impossible. Why wasn't she getting off him? Satoshi couldn't see past the cotton wall of her panties or the folds of her skirt, but Ui was wincing and nursing a sprained ankle.

From underneath her Satoshi's muffled screams sounded. He was all waving arms and kicking legs and what appeared to be a hood ornament stuffed down the front of his pants. Yui and Ritsu came over to help Ui off him, the latter of the two shaking her head and muttering about the absurdity of fourteen-year-old boys.

"Alright," Ritsu said gruffly, hauling Satoshi up. Her churlishness turned the word into _awright. _"Get to that computer, you ingrate."

"Yeah, uh…Will do." His voice cracked on _will_, and he cleared his throat…except there was nothing to clear. _I can't wait for my voice to finally change. _Behind him he heard giggles, like the light bubbling of a stream, and in that assortment of girly mirth he thought he heard Mio's voice. He kept his eyes down — at the floor, at that certain lump rising in his pants — as he trudged to the room. The smell of Ui's panties lingered in his beak, and he wondered if all girls' panties smelled like that. _Do Mio-chan's panties…?_

Over the years Mio had been something of a guilty pleasure of Satoshi's — someone he knew he would never have, yet he pined for her nonetheless. Sort of like when he was little and he would flip through the Christmas electronic catalogues, longing for the fifty thousand yen stuff and knowing his parents wouldn't (couldn't) spend that much on a present. But Mio's value to him went far beyond that of a fifty thousand yen doodad. He met her at the age of six, far too young to fully realize the importance of girls in his life. But he did know a pretty girl when he saw one. And even though his fourth grade class three years later would boast a supple amount of girls, Mio was the only girl on the nine-year-old boy's mind. What could he say? She was older than the girls in his class. She had the aura of an older girl who knew about things and people and cared about things and people…unlike his hooligan of a sister.

He fantasized about the two of them standing on the Hoshi Bridge in Central Park after Mio's graduation. Cold dusk would be settling around the two lovers, the world going purple in late winter shadow, the sky the color of ashes in the east and the color of embers in the west. A chilly breeze would kick up, sending Mio's liquid onyx hair ruffling toward him, her tears freezing to crackles on her face.

"I'm going to miss you most of all, Satoshi," she would sob, looking up at him (he was taller in this fantasy). "Please, let me give you my bass to remember me by!"

"Oh, Mio," he would rumble (he also had a deeper voice in this fantasy). He would extend a strong but gentle hand to smooth out a ridge of consternation on her forehead, and Mio's eyes would hood dreamily and she would blush. "The value of your bass doesn't hold a candle to your value. Just give me the pick and that will suffice."

And she would bring her gentle arms firmly around his neck and they would kiss. Usually that was the extent of his fantasy. If he was feeling particularly horny it would continue to include them finding a private place to do things he had no accurate or shrewd concept of.

Meanwhile in Music Room 3, Yui was up over the moon with delight as she was presented with a German chocolate cake courtesy of Kotobuki Tsumugi. It was a magnificent vision from butter and sugar heaven, complete with chocolate shavings lacing the edges of the swirly frosting. Anything that looked this good had to taste even better. Ui set eighteen candles in the masterpiece and Nodoka lit them with a lighter she had borrowed from her mother. Then it was time to sing.

"On three," the kaichou declared, shaking the flame out of the lighter. She then waved her hand like an orchestra conductor. "One, two, three…"

Everyone began to sing, "_Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to…_"

Their singing didn't abruptly stop so much as trail out as Yui blew out the candles and helped herself to a piece of cake. Ui giggled and Nodoka's eyes hooded in an I-knew-it sort of way. Everyone else stared and blinked stupidly. Azusa looked hard-pressed to scold her girlfriend.

From the other room Satoshi called, "What's the matter? Did you forget the words?"

"She blew them out already," Ritsu responded, both amused and bemused.

There followed the presents, which were mostly cheap yet valuable stuff, considering her friends' employment statuses. A pair of slippers from Mugi, the new Disorder and Early Sorrow album from Ritsu, an Ina Garten book on baking from Nodoka, a two thousand yen gift card to the Cupcake Factory from Mio (which Ritsu would blow a capillary over later. "You still owe me for that bet!" she would yell).

When it came Azusa's turn to give her present, she told Yui, "I did get you a present…but, um…I kinda want to wait until later to give it to you."

This struck Ritsu with a blow of indignation. Wait until later — what was that? Did she think she was better than the rest of them, just because she was the birthday girl's girlfriend?

Sawako, who had gotten Yui a wallet (a place to keep her school ID so she would never lose it again, hint hint), uttered a low laugh, one of her eyes gleaming under a shadow of impure thoughts. "Could this be a school-inappropriate gift, Azusa-chan?"

The kouhai looked up from Yui. "What…?"

"Are you going to have Yui-chan unwrap you for her birthday?" the sensei queried, not without relish.

Both Azusa and Ui blushed up to their ears, but for different reasons. The latter had a myriad of auras, but the two most prominent ones were I Hope That's Not Really Her Gift To Oneechan and Why Didn't I Think Of That? Azusa also had the second aura, though hers extended to …But It's Not Too Late To Give Her That.

"No!" she finally snapped, shuddering. Her quivering small hands, on their own detached and unconscious accord, came up to cup her patchy red cheeks.

Meanwhile Yui was rocking with giggles. "You can't unwrap Azu-nyan, silly Sawa-chan!"

A sort of stillness fell over the music room, save for the chuckling Yui, who was picturing herself tearing away brightly-colored wrapping paper to find her girlfriend curled within. Mio and Ritsu glanced at each other, an uncomfortable telepathy snapping between them as if on an electric current.

_She doesn't get it, does she?_

_You want to explain it?_

_No way. I've had enough after explaining why the Nakano bunch wouldn't like them together._

From the other room Satoshi broke the silence with: "Hey, I'd like somebody to unwrap for _my _birthday."

* * *

><p>Outside it was almost black with early nightfall. It was really a lot earlier than it felt, but that didn't stop the Light Music Club and their guests from groggily taking their leave. Mugi and Sawako left together, talking in anticipation of their date at Kuma's Corner later that night. Yui left with everyone else, except for Mio and Ritsu, who stayed behind to wait for Satoshi. On the way out of the music room Jun was goading Nodoka into an argument about foreign politics.<p>

"The American economy is in _baaaad _shape, Manabe-san," Jun argued, grinning at how Nodoka's face reddened. The kaichou harbored a sort of resentment towards the United States government. "All the people want to know, where did the money go?"

"I'll tell you where it went," Nodoka replied. "It never existed. That's the thing with the American economy: they don't _make _anything…except Snuggies and male enhancement pills…"

Her bitter grumblings receded down the hallway until Mio and Ritsu were left standing in Music Room 3, embraced in almost total silence. Occasionally there was a mouse-click from the adjacent room, where Satoshi continued to fight the battle of the viruses side-by-side with Malware Bytes.

"How long is this going to take, Satoshi?" Ritsu called, knocking her heel impatiently against the wall.

"I dunno," he replied. "Killing viruses takes a lot of patience." Which was true. This whole situation was no picnic in the park for him either. He had spent a good chunk of time looking for and installing a virus-killing program that the Trojan bugs wouldn't immediately shoot down. Now Malware was doing a full-system scan on the entire Sakuragaoka database. By this point Satoshi's butt hurt from sitting in the chair and he was bored out of his skull.

The drummer turned her eyes upward, as if on an elevator, and lightly hammered her fists against the wall. She hated this recording business, _hated _it. She used to play the drums everyday. Her life had structure. Now it was just recording, sometimes going entire days without playing. Ui had innocently suggested Ritsu take up something new like kick-boxing or kendo or caber tossing, but the drummer saw an impetuous murderous rampage as more likely. And a certain pixie-haired pianist was sure to be her first target.

Mio strolled back and forth quietly, her footfalls slow and barely audible. Her right hand was cupped around her chin, as it often was when she was lost in thought. Ritsu was lost in her own thoughts when the bassist suddenly sidled up beside her.

"I need you to come over tonight," she whispered. "There's something we need to talk about."

Ritsu smirked up at Mio, her topaz eyes wide and glinting with interest. "Wellll, Mio, it's not _my _birthday. Certainly I don't deserve someone as gorgeous as you to unwrap…unless you're just letting me look."

_**BOCK!**_

The top of the drummer's head throbbed with a fresh goose egg as she staggered a bit before sinking to her knees before the flustered Mio.

Still, Ritsu was not one to shut up when it was best to. Once again her notoriously big mouth carried on. "You said we should focus on more serious things—_oof!_" she groaned as her girlfriend's knuckles slammed into her unprotected scalp once again, flooring her and loosening her headband a little. She feebly raised a finger and gagged, "You…said…"

"Ricchan?"

"Yes…?"

"Do you see this chair?"

"Yes." Ritsu's bleary, color-spotted vision focused on the folding chair Mio had rested her hand upon.

"Well, it's going over your head if you say one more perverted thing."

There was a pause before Ritsu sighed in agreement. Mio almost felt bad for the drummer, who was curled up in a fetal position around her ankles with one hand nursing her undoubtably aching head. The raven-haired girl was nearly certain that she wouldn't actually hit Ritsu with the chair. Christ, sometimes she even wondered if all this head-bashing would lead to an early onset of Alzheimer's. As she crouched to help her girlfriend up, she whispered, "It has to do with this whole recording business with Chiharu-chan...and that one with the blue eyes..."

"Hitomi?" Ritsu blinked. Her headache was taking its time clearing. "What about her?"

Mio wasn't in any mood to explain. All she could say was "Come over tonight," and leave the explaining for later.

"Alright," Ritsu nodded. Their intimacy was boundless, through their whispers and how close they were standing to each other against the wall. Though they weren't touching, the drummer could feel the heat of her childhood friend's body, permeating the air between them like the sun on an August noon. It was not, however, the warmest Ritsu would feel that day…

Mio had said she wanted to talk recording, yet Ritsu couldn't help but keep thinking of _Come over tonight _as her girlfriend's invitation to...

As hard as Ritsu tried to push the thought away, to take Mio seriously, those impure thoughts came drifting back like Tolstoy's white bear.

She was right there. Mio was standing right there, close enough to touch, her hands behind her back, and her bluish-gray eyes focused on the hardwood floor. Ritsu could still remember the first time the raven-haired girl actually clocked her. Throughout primary school Mio had a stutter — earning her the nickname Stuttering Mio — which worsened in fourth grade to the point of her needing a therapist. (Poor girl, if she wasn't 'sinistromanuel' she was 'Stuttering Mio.') She had spent summer break repeating the phrase Ueda-san the therapist had given her. _She thrusts her fist upon the post and still insists she sees the ghost._

Mio and Ritsu had returned to Torimizu Primary that September, the former muttering, "She thuh-thrusts her f-fists uh-hupon the p-p-p-puh-host a-a-a-and stuh-huh-hill insists sh-she s-sees the g-g-g-ghost." Clearly, not much progress had been made. But somewhere in junior high the stutter went away, though the bassist still felt that familiar hitch in her soft palette when speaking, creating an awkward pause which would ordinarily be filled with clumsy consonant sounds.

Mio's stutter had been the but of many a cruel joke from some classmates. One guy — Ritsu couldn't recall his name — a big overweight guy with black hair in a crewcut once knocked Mio's books out of her arm in one swoop of his huge, trout-like hand. His liverish lips parted to reveal a gap in his teeth — when standing up for Mio, Ritsu would call him a smiling vending machine — and he cried in a mocking puny voice, "Juh-juh-jeez! Suh-horry a-about that, you cuh-cuh-cunt!"

If it was one thing Akiyama Stuttering Mio the sinistromanuel detested, it was when people tried to mimic how she spoke. Ritsu learned that the hard way in December of that same year, when the days creep in on that particular season that is the favorite of young children and the bane of post office workers. A Christmas song by the Ramones rasped thinly from Ritsu's transistor radio as the two of them sat by the heating vent at her house, exhausted and flushed from a snowball fight.

Mio lowered her steaming mug from her mouth. "G-G-Ghirardelli huh-hot cocoa's duh-hefinitely the b-best."

Ritsu stirred her candy cane in the frothy chocolate, then sucked on one end of it. "A-a-anything's buh-better wuh-when you add a p-p-p-p—" here she made a great show of spitting, the way the raven-haired girl tended to when stuttering on Ps "—peppermint stuh-hick t-t-to it."

_**KAPOW!**_

The punch was completely unexpected. Ritsu's forehead whacked the carpeted floor before she even knew what hit her. The top of her head throbbed with painful waves of circulation, and when she reached up toward it, her fingers grazed a stinging knob which refreshed the throbbing at a more intense clip.

When she looked up she found Mio staring wide-eyed at her left hand, as if she couldn't believe she had gone and done that. Her other hand grasped her steaming mug (amazingly, not a drop of her cocoa was spilled).

Regaining her resolve, Mio exclaimed, "If you d-do that a-again, I'll nuh-nuh-knock yuh-your frocking buh-block off!"

Frocking. The word made Ritsu giggle. Mio blinked, then indignantly raised her fist again.

"Alright, I won't!" Ritsu cried, fighting to stop her laughter. She threw her hands up: her white flag. "Don't hit me!" As if defending her, Joey Ramone picked up the chorus: "_Merry Christmas, I don't want to fight tonight~_"

The bassist thought whoever decided to make the stuttering girl read a whole five-paragraph essay on stage had a sick sense of humor.

The raven-haired girl snapped out of her trance and turned her head to find the drummer grinning at her. Ritsu looked amazingly young when she smiled, with or without her school uniform. But she would take it amiss if Mio told her that, throw a hissy fit and feed the bassist her lunch perhaps, so she simply muttered, "What's the matter?"

Her girlfriend shook her head, her smile broadening a little. "I love you," she responded cheerfully, her hands finding each other on the back of Mio's neck. "What could be the matter?"

Deciding maybe a response would sound stupid, Mio held her silence, letting herself be pulled forward by the drummer's shining topaz eyes. Her thin lips parted to close warmly around Ritsu's, surrounding her bokukko childhood friend in the second-best kind of loving embrace (the best is reserved for closed doors and dim lights, if you can dig that). The first kiss turned into the second, deeper one. Ritsu thought she could feel Mio's tongue touch hers softly, a feeling so smooth and gentle yet so torrid and unbridled that she shivered under the bassist's caressing hands, and she instinctively shot hers toward her girlfriend's swirling it around slickly.

Something between a grunt and a groan issued from Mio, who was tugging a bit at Ritsu's blazer. The logical part of her brain was shutting down, letting the raven-haired girl sink into the basement of her mind, where the bees worked, never thinking.

_We're in public. This kissing can't go anywhere you want it—_

_Doesn't matter. I'll get as much of her as I can._

And Mio did get as much of Ritsu as she could. A handful, at least.

"Oh, God!" the brunette hissed, half from surprise, half from arousal, as Mio's hand shoved under her blazer and firmly but not roughly grasped her breast through her shirt. "What is it with you and my boobs?" the drummer asked amid husky, gasping laughter. Her girlfriend's eyes were dark and a bit guilty. "_You're_ the stack-attack!" She laughed again as she grabbed Mio's immense breasts; her laughter withered as they actually overflowed her grasp. "The hell…? Have you _grown?_"

Under ordinary circumstances Mio would have crowned Ritsu, but she was still in the basement of her mind, and the bees would not let her go. Also, to be fair, she was holding one of her girlfriend's breasts as well.

So she leaned in for another kiss, using her free arm to pull Ritsu in, and growled, "You want to find out?"

For a moment there was disbelief in the drummer's eyes. Then that old grin that made her look so beautifully young returned. "Hell, yes." Her hands slid up the bass player's chest to lose themselves in the glittering, feathery locks of her onyx hair. As she kissed Mio, she let strands of it fall from her hands like precious black silk. She was very much aware of her girlfriend's left hand pulling and kneading at her breast through her shirt. She thought she might faint.

_Maybe something _will _happen tonight, _the brunette thought with chilling certainty.

It sounded like it came from far away — as if through a narrow tunnel — but from seemingly far away a startled croak guttered its way into their embrace, like a finger on your cheek. And Ritsu knew exactly who it was. The croaking voice was cracked, somewhere between that of a boy and a man. It was the voice of a fourteen-going-on-fifteen-year-old computer nerd who had such a low tolerance for illness that he could turn a common cold into a cardiac arrest…He could turn _anything _into a cardiac arrest, including what he had just walked in on.

Satoshi.

"Get out of here, you freak!" Ritsu bellowed as she tore herself from Mio. She felt bad about yelling at him like this, but now she just wanted him out of the room, as if he had never entered. "Go!" she reiterated when he hadn't moved. He had just stood rooted there, like a deer in headlights, his eyes saucers. It was when his sister advanced speedily upon him, fist swinging, that he finally tore back into the computer room, slamming the door behind him.

Mio, during all this, stood in the background, overcome with disbelief. She couldn't look Satoshi in the eye.

From behind the door his panicked, cracked voice mewled, "Tell me when I can come in…"

"Yeah, yeah," Ritsu snarled, turning away from the door. She wanted to kick herself, slap herself, and finally just drop an Acme anvil on her own stupid head. How could this be happening _again? _If it was one kind of luck hers and Mio's relationship didn't have, it was that of the Irish. _Two down, one left. Frock it. We ought to find Dad and just kiss in front of him. A right proper way to come out to yer ol' dad if there ever was one._

"R-Ricchan…?" At last Mio found her voice. "What are we going to do about him?"

"Leave him be," the drummer decided. "I'd say he's had a good day. He got a faceful of a girl's panties and saw two girls making out. He's probably in whack-off heaven as we speak."

Satoshi, however, was not in whack-off heaven. He would never go to whack-off heaven with what he had just seen. Two girls making out was hot and all, but _one of them was neechan! _One of them was Mio, but _the other was neechan! _This was so explosively huge in his memory that it obliterated any pleasure he derived from having that one girl with the ponytail's panties in his face. In years to come he would think about that, get excited, and then semi-consciously think, _That was the day I found neechan making out with Mio-chan._

And somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered, _Are they lesbians…?_

Nothing kills a guy's buzz like knowing the girl he's liked all this time is a lesbian. Plus…_one of the girls was neechan!_

After what felt like hours Ritsu finally let Satoshi come back in. She and Mio were bundled up, and he thought with a pang of regret of his coat and gloves at home. The cold immediately sank its fangs into his ears, nose, and fingers. From the pale sky swirled little white cottonfluffs. Snow.

Due to certain circumstances Mio and Ritsu did not walk home together. They headed toward the subdivision in the whirling new snow, Mio on one side of the street, Ritsu and Satoshi (avoiding each other's eyes all the way) on the other.

_Good thing I'm going to her house, _the drummer thought, _because I am not going to be well-received at home tonight._

* * *

><p><strong>AKIYAMA MIO<br>January 15, 1992**

**Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)**

**Duality: **Feminine  
><strong>Triplicity (Element): <strong>Earth  
><strong>Quadruplicity (Quality): <strong>Cardinal

_Capricorn is reserved, prudent, patient, uses cunning instead of force, seeks security, is disciplined, determined, and quick to seize opportunity._

**Ruling Planet: **Saturn — Roman god who presided over the reaping and sowing of grain. In ancient times, the outermost planet of the known universe. In astrology, Saturn represents obstacles, limitations, restriction, and discipline.

**Symbol: **The Goat — a sure-footed animal who ascends great heights and takes advantage of every foothold. The goat butts its way through obstructions and loud drummers.

**Polarity: **Cancer — Capricorn is the sign governing reputation, career, and standing within the community. Its natives seek honor, praise, approval in the world at large, but tend to be emotionally reserved in personal relationships. Cancer, Capricorn's opposite sign (and the sign of Mugi), is the sign of domesticity and home life. Cancers derive security from the love and closeness of mates and family members.

**Parts of the Body Ruled by Capricorn: **The bones, joints, and knees — Capricorn natives usually have beautiful bone structure, but they are subject to stiff joints, rheumatism, and orthopedic problems.

**Birthstone: **Garnet — attracts popularity, high esteem, and true love.

**Special Colors: **Dark green and brown — classic, comforting colors of the earth.

**Danger: **Other people may harbor hidden grudges because of Capricorn's coldness and reserve. Secrets from the past may be used against Capricorn.

**Famous Capricorns: **Muhammad Ali, Humphrey Bogart, Al Capone, Anton Chekhov, Faye Dunaway, Benjamin Franklin, Ava Gardner, Cary Grant, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther King Jr., Jack London, Henri Matisse, Mary Tyler Moore, Isaac Newton, Richard Nixon, Edgar Allan Poe, Elvis Presley, Paul Revere, Setsuna Sakurazaki (sorry, couldn't resist), Carl Sandberg, J.D. Salinger, Joseph Stalin, J.R.R. Tolkien, Woodrow Wilson.

* * *

><p><strong>TAINAKA RITSU<br>August 22, 1991**

**Leo (July 23 – August 22)**

**Duality: **Masculine  
><strong>Triplicity (Element): <strong>Fire  
><strong>Quadruplicity (Quality): <strong>Fixed

_Leo is enthusiastic, powerful, expansive and creative, generous and extravagant, dogmatic and fixed in opinion._

**Ruling Planet: **The Sun — center of our solar system, a star that burns with intense fire and supplies us with light, heat, and energy. In astrology, the Sun is the most powerful planetary influence, bestowing vitality and authority.

**Symbol: **The Lion — regal, brave, dominating, sometimes lazy. Possessing nobility and pride.

**Polarity: **Aquarius — Leo is the sign that governs pleasure and creativity. Natives of Leo look for what they can getr out of life for themselves, and tend to dominate others. Aquarius, Leo's opposite sign (and Sawako's sign), is the sign of hopes and wishes and higher aspirations of mankind. Aquarian people are concerned with larger ideals, humanitarian concepts, and are more impersonal and aloof in their relationships. In short, Aquarius is interested in the world and Leo is strictly interested in Leo.

**Parts of the Body Ruled by Leo: **The forehead. No, I'm kidding. Back, spine, and heart — the heart is associated with warm emotions, the back with courage. Emotional strain or physical overexertion cause back and spine ailments in Leo people.

**Birthstone: **Ruby — protects against physical injury and ensures faithfulness. It also brings its wearer serenity of mind.

**Special Colors: **Gold and orange — the magnetic colors of the sun.

**Danger: **Leo people tend to be bombastic and challenging, sometimes provoking others (such as their childhood friends) into impulsive violence. They are also prone toward being victims of slander.

**Famous Leos: **Ethel Barrymore, Simon Bolivar, Napoleon Bonaparte, Ray Bradbury, Fidel Castro, Coco Chanel, Julia Child, Robert De Niro, Amelia Earhart, Zelda Fitzgerald, Alfred Hitchcock, Dustin Hoffman, Mick Jagger, Peter Jennings, Carl Jung, T.E. Lawrence, Madonna, Hermann Melville, Benito Mussolini, Andy Warhol, Mae West, Shelley Winters.

* * *

><p>AN

Here we begin learning about the astrological signs of the K-ON! characters. It was something I decided to do just for grins, and since I'm fascinated by astrology. Lately I've begun studying the eastern zodiac; my yearly sign is ram, which marks me as indecisive, my monthly sign the rat, which means I prefer to be my own boss (career-wise), and my hourly sign is the tiger, which makes me hot-tempered.

Why does everyone hate Satoshi? He appeared a grand total of three times in the anime, in none of which he proved to be an asshole.


	29. Fire in Throat

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**Fire in Throat**

The boy Tainaka wasn't the only one who was dismayed by the snow.

Upon exiting Sakuragaoka with her girlfriend, sister, and friends (Nodoka was now ranting about Japan's faulty top-bottom economy), Yui cried foul at the little flakes that dusted her coat.

"No! Why would it decide to snow _today?_"

"Maybe someone up there really has it out for you," Azusa replied with an uncharacteristic amount of lightness in her voice. The snow was already beginning to accumulate; brown grass peeped through like hair through a revoltingly thick cradle-cap. By midnight the town would be a marshmallow world, the very same one Darlene Love sang about. And just like in that song Azusa was taking a walk with her favorite girl.

_That reminds me, _she thought, absently poking out her tongue to catch a snowflake. _Christmas is coming up, isn't it?_

Yui, meanwhile, was poking her tongue out at the clouds, where she assumed that someone who had it out for her resided. She pulled her lower eyelid down, a pink crescent on her pale face, and called, "How would you like it if it snowed on _your _birthday?"

"I think that would be a 'white Christmas,'" Jun mumbled. Unable to help herself, she began singing in her wavering alto voice, "_IIIII'm dreaming of a whiiii_—"

"Beep beep, Jun-chan," Azusa interrupted. Whenever Jun cracked a bad joke it was the guitarist's wont to "beep" her. "Beep beep" could be interpreted as "not funny" or "shaddup." Ui didn't have the nerve to beep the bassist, so this had become an Azusa and Jun thing.

"Aww," Jun grumbled and quit singing. What had prompted her to sing that old favorite Christmas carol of hers was seeing Ui perk up when she mentioned the "white Christmas." The ponytailed girl had raised her snow-powdered head, and an odd smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. It was a very unusual smile thinly concealing some sentiment. _Nostalgia, perhaps...?_

_Well, who doesn't feel nostalgic where Christmas is concerned? _Jun admittedly pined for the '90s — the best decade, in her opinion, to be a rock 'n' roll-loving tot from a lower-middle-class family — when her father played cassettes of Christmas songs he recorded from the radio. The Pretenders, Low, John Lennon and Yoko Ono, the Kinks. Keith Richards. God, if someone mentioned 'Run Rudolph Run' Jun would have brayed, "_All I want for Christmas is an electric guitar~_"

So she belted out 'White Christmas' the way she imagined Haruhi Suzumiya would have if she were to put out a Christmas album...Okay, Ui didn't care one way or the other about Haruhi. But the rendition _was _funny; Jun saw the ponytailed girl giggle before Azusa beeped her.

"Nodoka-chan!" Yui chirped, walking backwards (and swaying with almost drunk-like clumsiness) to face her friend since kindergarten. "I thought of what I really want to do for my birthday." _Try _would be a better word, but _do _was the word that had popped into the brunette's head.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Yui giggled uneasily and fidgeted. "Well, y'know, Ginza market's on the way home..." Her heel caught an uneven block of sidewalk, and she stumbled. She was conscious of Ui and Azusa staring, and she knew the thing she wanted to try/do would horrify them. But she had to try it at least once...Once wouldn't kill her...It was her patriotic duty as an official adult in the eyes of the law.

It wasn't voting...

"I want to smoke a cigarette!"

"_**ONEECHAN!**_" Ui gagged.

Azusa blinked. She was looking at Ui convulsing like a parish priest who has heard "I want to tattoo 666 on the forehead of the crack-baby I made through premarital sex!" but she was seeing the tarry, blackened lung she and the other third graders at Alloway Primary had been presented with. The millennium was still fairly fresh when she had boarded a bus on a fieldtrip to Tokyo University to learn about the harmful effects of tobacco, alcohol, and other drugs. A professor had placed the lung of a deceased smoker in nine-year-old Azusa's tiny gloved hands; the pigtailed girl almost fell to the floor under its great weight. Its texture was firm, slick, and bumpy. The placing of this gunky lung in her hands had probably been done to send a dire message: _Smoking is not cool. There is nothing cool about a grapefruit in your lung. _But all Azusa could think was, _Man, this lung sure is heavy._

"May I ask why you're asking me to help you buy cigarettes?" Nodoka's voice was as calm and level as always, but she looked a trifle uncomfortable.

"Because you're a connoisseur on them, Nodoka-chan," Yui responded in a pleading voice.

Ui almost swallowed her tongue. The memory of Nodoka flicking her Bic at Yui's cake flashed before her eyes. Yes, it all made a horrible sense. "_**ARE YOU A SMOKER, NODOKA-CHAN?**_" she gurgled, her brown eyes looking ready to pop out of her ashen face.

_We're gonna have to get Ui-chan a crash helmet, _Jun thought, vainly attempting to placate the hysterical girl with a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not a smoker," the kaichou sighed, her erubescent eyes turned upward to avoid watching Ui's sort-of anxiety attack. "My mother smokes. She's smoked for as long as I can remember..."

Nodoka was reliving a smoking memory of her own. When she was only six years old her mother had offered her her first — and only — puff on a cigarette. (Winstons, she believed the woman smoked. She heard from relatives that in reality a Winston did _not _taste good like a cigarette should.) Nodoka had eagerly accepted the offer, which she looked back on as simple childish curiosity. She grasped the warm papery stick in her right hand and closed her lips around the butt whilst Mrs. Manabe instructed, "Be sure not to inhale, honey," as if a six-year-old really knew how to inhale cigarette smoke. A complete novice in the ways of smoking, Nodoka sucked on the butt as she would a straw, and it wasn't bad...until she exhaled.

Mr. Manabe was coming in from the garage, wiping sticky car oil from his hands, and back-stepped in shock as his daughter tore through his path. Nodoka, her face beet-red, was making fast tracks for the fridge, where she chugged an entire quart of orange juice with so much gusto that juice slopped over her chin onto her shirt.

"You're just too young to understand these things," Mrs. Manabe had sighed, sticking the cigarette back in her mouth.

Nodoka also looked back on that as the stupidest thing she had ever done. She had felt pretty stupid, dashing gracelessly past her father to spill juice all over herself in an attempt to rid her poor throat of that stinging fire.

Now grimacing, she told Yui, "I don't think you're going to like it."

"Maybe I won't," Yui agreed. She was facing forward now, for walking backward was far too perilous, and walking between Azusa and Nodoka. "But I just want to see what it's like."

"That's a lot of money to waste on a one-shot thing."

"Not really...I mean, they only cost five hundred yen a pack, right?"

Yui's face radiated such open wonder and curiosity that Nodoka finally gave didn't have the heart to tell her best friend on her birthday that five hundred yen a pack was a more commonly-found price in Tokyo. In the 'burbs it cost a thousand yen to bust a pack of cancer sticks.

"What do you think of this, Azu-nyan?" Yui asked, taking her girlfriend's hand. The kouhai had remained thoughtfully quiet through all this, her garnet eyes glued to her shoes.

Azusa glared up at the senpai, her mouth a hard line on her young face. "I _will not _date a smoker," she said so firmly that Ui stopped reeling with shock long enough to give her an appreciative glance. "But if you want to do this _once_, I won't stop you."

* * *

><p>Ginza market was awhirl with activity as usual. Mothers shopped like mailmen delivered mail: rain, snow, sleet, and hail would not hinder them. Carts rushed and kids screamed and self-checkout computers yammered and Billie Holliday's 'You're My Thrill' hummed over the intercom. Every thirty seconds the music was interrupted by a monotone reminder to sign up for a Ginza Preferred Card.<p>

Tobacco was sold behind the customer service counter, which was right by the check-out aisles. Yui staggered on up to the counter, which was womaned by a middle-aged lady with glasses, with Nodoka beside her. When the guitarist expressed her wish to buy some cigarettes the lady gestured at the racks of packs they had on display. A novice in the ways of smoking, much like Nodoka had been at age six, Yui just called out the first brand her wandering eyes fell upon.

"Winstons."

Beside her Nodoka was coughing and shaking her head.

"Um, no...uh, Marlboros...?"

"What kind?" the lady dead-panned, her bony hand lingering near the Marlboros. They came in two different packs.

"The red ones."

Nodoka almost fell through the floor. _The red ones, eh? _The right answer would have been filtered or unfiltered. Incidentally, Yui had chosen filtered cigarettes, which the kaichou thought was probably in her best interest. Filtered wouldn't kill Yui's throat as badly.

The guitarist's ID was shown and the transaction was made. The cigarettes cost nine hundred and ninety-nine yen.

Too embarrassed to be seen near the cigarette counter, Ui and Azusa excused themselves. They didn't meander far. With no real shopping to do here, they found themselves scanning the impulse purchases in the check-out aisle with buyers' eyes.

"Bubble Yum is a most juvenile impulse purchase, yes?"

"Mm-hmm. Very. Me, I've always been a Wrigley gal."

"Wrigley, huh? An impulse purchase for one with a tender palette, indeed. Eclipse is the only respectable gum to chew."

Their faces were bright red. They were trying not to think of Yui buying cigarettes just twenty feet away.

"That is only one woman's opinion. Wrigley gum is like a Chanel suit — it'll never go out of style." Ui nodded, and her right hand plucked a pack of spearmint gum off the rack. "Yes, this shall be the impulse purchase I will indulge myself in."

Azusa's crimson eyes drifted around the rack. "And I will have...ohh, Skittles!" She snatched a red bag with a picture of a rainbow vomitting candy on it.

"That's not even gum..."

"No, but it is an impulse purchase. I chose it on an impulse!"

From the bagging area Jun called, "You guys sound like Lucky Star characters. Hurry up and buy something." The guy manning the register fervently seconded this motion; quite a lot of people had lined up behind the two of them. "Plus, it looks like Yui-chan's done buying fags."

"Beep beep, Jun-chan," Azusa replied, doling out ninety-nine yen for her bag of colors and sugar.

* * *

><p>There were ashtrays just outside the automatic doors of Ginza — medium-heighted concrete cylinders, their gray ashes accented with crumpled saffron butts. So it was decided that Yui would smoke a Marlboro right here.<p>

Nodoka, feeling a bit demoralized and guilty, flicked her mother's lighter. She knew Yui would not be able to smoke that entire cigarette. But the bespectacled girl still felt like a bit of a drug pusher, supplying the flame to light the guitarist's first and only cigarette. If Nodoka didn't have the lighter Yui wouldn't be able to complete this ridiculous 'rite of passage,' as she was doubtlessly thinking of it. What was more, the kaichou knew she should have adamantly refused to 'help' Yui buy cigarettes. The guitarist needed an ID and money, not Nodoka's involvement. Needless to say, she was having some doubts.

_Yui-chan may not know better, but I do. I should have refused to do this._

Yui plunged the cigarette into the flame, and a silk ribbon of smoke curled up. And when she withdrew the stick, a hand placed casually on the butt Takahata-style, Nodoka thought of something. People didn't smoke cigarettes because they thought it was cool or because they thought it made them look cool. They smoked because they needed to. That was what her mother always said everytime her father tried to persuade her to stop.

"It's not cool," he would always say. "You're not going to think it's cool when you wake up in the morning and cough what's left of your lungs out."

"Cut the 'cool' bullshit, Nancy Reagan," Mrs. Manabe would always snap. Then once she followed up this command with something Nodoka would never forget. "I _need _cigarettes, Kazuki, the same way you need coffee. I need cigarettes, you need coffee, but _you're _the morally superior one? Don't give me that bullshit." And from the other room where she sat reading, Nodoka could hear the soft snap of her mother's lighter.

Nodoka was not a smoker, but she knew smoking in and out from living with one. And now, looking at Yui with a cigarette poking out of her mouth, she thought her friend looked neither cool nor uncool. _Coolness has nothing to do with smoking, _she thought. _The only people who think it's cool or not cool are people who don't know what it is._

Yui pulled the Marlboro from her mouth and exhaled, and...nothing happened. No blast of smoke from her mouth, no heat in her chest or neck. Just the faint sour taste of tobacco in her mouth which she had been experiencing ever since she stuck the thing between her lips. She stared at the end curiously. "Nothing's happening. Is something supposed to happen?"

_I sure hope so, _Nodoka thought, _or else a lot of cigarette companies are scamming people out of their money. _"Did you inhale when you lit up?" she asked, feeling again like a creepy drug pusher.

Yui shook her head.

Sighing, Nodoka flicked her mother's lighter again. Yui stuck the Marlboro in, and this time they saw an orange light flare up at the end along with the tendril of smoke.

Ui stood nearby, clutching her pack of gum with both hands and trembling. Yui was always a step ahead of her, the first to do everything — smoke, drive, vote, drink, go see R-rated movies without adult accompaniment — and therefore inadvertently robbed Ui of these experiences' novelty. The pride the ponytailed girl felt at entering high school a year ago was shadowed by the knowledge that oneechan's already been through this. The smoking, like everything Yui did, was a vicarious experience for Ui. Had she decided to smoke a cigarette herself, it would not feel like the first time for her.

She did not, however, think Yui looked cool. Just older. The cigarette was another reminder that Yui was older, old enough to go to Japan Women's University — the alma mater of that famous author Ariyoshi Sawako — if she could pass the entrance exam.

Azusa leaned against the brick wall, eating Skittles, feeling more and more like a kid with each tarty burst of sweetness in her mouth. She tried to detach herself emotionally from this, but everytime she blinked she saw that oily black lung, felt its titanic weight in her hands and arms. She concentrated on her own great bellows pumping in air, imagining the sacs ballooning and crumpling like paper bags, and thought of what it would be like if they weighed that much. No wonder smokers couldn't manage going up a flight of stairs. Why the hell did Yui want to do this?

_It's one cigarette. _That was the mantra Azusa recited in her head over and over. _One cigarette is not going to make Yui-senpai's lungs gain fifty pounds each._

Yui felt a startling warmth suffuse her collarbones, and when she exhaled a little shotgun kicked at the bottom of her throat. She watched in amazement as a cloud of gray smoke gusted out before her eyes, her mouth full of the Marlboro's hot, bitter flavor. She had seen cigarette smoke before, but this time it had come from her own mouth, and _that _was the novelty she was looking to experience when she said "I want to smoke a cigarette."

"Well?" Jun piped. "How is it?"

"Not bad," Yui responded, somewhat blandly. She was watching the white paper recede, exposing a crumbly line of gray ashy paper.

"I won't date a smoker," Azusa reiterated.

Nodding, Yui let herself meet her girlfriend's sober gaze. Azusa had remained silent and totally unobtrusive throughout this whole thing, which the older girl could not understand. In a situation where the kouhai would normally admonish Yui she had actually been rather complacent. But when the brunette saw Azusa's eyes, darkly staring at the green Skittle in her hand, she thought she saw it. Fear. Just a dash of fear on the pigtailed girl's face, beetling her brow and tightening the corners of her mouth. Azusa would not date a smoker because the idea of smoking frightened her so much that she couldn't even speak of it, not even to argue about it. To scare Azusa, her girlfriend and an underclassman, like that made Yui feel like the lowest vile wonder. And thus her decision was made.

"Then you won't, Azu-nyan."

Her eyes bright with surprise and radiant delight, Azusa looked up, right at Yui, who nodded to confirm what she had just said.

"Y-Yui-senpai..." It wasn't the 'fag' in her hand that made Yui seem older to the kouhai, but that uncharacteristic sturdiness in her face — a hardness that spoke of how strong Yui's love for Azusa was. The senpai was not just an adult — she was Azusa's adult. And she was an adult the kouhai could count on.

Nonetheless, Azusa thought it was fair to say, "You don't have to. It _is _your birthday."

But Yui was shaking her head; her mind was totally made up. She gestured at the cigarette. "It's not bad, but it's not worth scaring you over."

The younger girl blinked, feeling warm blood tingling in her cheeks. Not for the first time, Yui had left her at a loss for words. Her face reddened a bit more as she took stock of Ui, Jun, and Nodoka glancing at the two of them. _Yui-senpai's declarations are never complete without an audience..._

Yui had turned toward the ashtray to snuff out the Marlboro — a thousand yen for one puff — when she decided she might like to see those winding braids of smoke gusting from her mouth one last time. So she took one final long drag, held it, ground the cigarette into the ash, and exhaled.

And then her throat seized up.

If Yui ever imagined what swallowing a lit match would be like, this would be it. The bottom of her throat charred and stung with the cigarette's formidible heat. The smoke, caught up in her mouth, prickled the poor thing with its Trojan horse-like chemicals. Tears sprang into Yui's throbbing eyes.

She couldn't breathe. Every exhalation felt like jabbing a hot needle through her throat. Her chest had tightened, as if invisible iron bands had clamped around it and was squeezing mercilessly. Red flowers of light burst and flashed in her blurring, darkening vision, and a frightening numbness descended over her head and ended at her feet. The last she remembered before falling into complete darkness was a gentle thud and, she thought, Azusa's voice, soft and faraway: "Yui-senpai...!"

* * *

><p>She came out of darkness moments later and sat up.<p>

A little wind had picked up, blowing the new snow under the overhang. Yui's shoulders rose and fell with every shallow breath, her inflamed throat screaming everytime she exhaled. Her mouth was dry and tasted sour. Smoke. A wave of dizziness buffetted the guitarist's head before she remembered that she had tried to smoke a cigarette and passed out. Her hand tightened around something, and when she looked down she found it holding a pack of Marlboros.

Nodoka, Ui, and Jun were crouching around her. The ponytailed girl was convulsing again, sobbing with relief, and muttering thanks to that someone up there who might have had it out for Yui so rapidly that she sounded like a 45 rpm record at 55 rpm.

"And I thought _my _smoking experience was bad," the kaichou sighed, her eyes wide and worried. "Are you alright?"

With a feeble cough, Yui nodded. Her eyes looked haunted — wide, but the pupils were eerily dilated — the face of a drowned child. "How long was I out?"

"Not long," Nodoka assured.

"Long enough for everyone to break down and fall apart," Jun added. Even she looked spooked. "The cigarette was that bad, huh?"

"Oneechaaaaan!" Ui wailed, diving into her older sister, arms outstretched for a hug. Yui dimly put her arms around her.

Her hand still clutched the cigarette pack, which Azusa deftly snatched. The kouhai glared at it so hotly that one might think she may have been able to light up the nineteen remaining sticks with that glare. Her red eyes simmered furiously, and her mouth was scrunched up into an upside-down V.

"This was the cause of all this!" she snarled. "I'm getting rid of it!"

Her right arm whooshed powerfully, almost pinwheeling in the strength of her throw, and the Marlboros went flying into the Ginza parking lot. They came to land before a homeless woman who was just thinking about how good a hot cigarette would feel on a cold day like today, if only she could afford it. Her rough, callused hand closed around the pack, and she turned her shining eyes upward at the sky from whence they seemed to fall. "Th-thank you..."

* * *

><p><strong>HIRASAWA YUI<br>November 27, 1991**

**Sagittarius (November 22 - December 21)**

Duality: Masculine  
>Triplicity: Fire<br>Quadruplicity: Mutable

_Sagittarius is energetic, ambitious, generous, freedom-loving, and a seeker of challenge, open to new ideas and exploration._

Ruling Planet: Jupiter. The most important Roman god, ruler of the heavens. In astrology, Jupiter is the planet of luck, optimism, expansion, and abundance.

Symbol: The Archer. Representing directness, high aims, a love of outdoor activity and the chase.

Polarity: Gemini. Sagittarius is the sign of philosophy, higher learning, and broad concepts. Its natives are happiest discovering new ideas and exploring distant places, and not getting tied down with personal commitments. Gemini is the sign of personal expression and communicating one-on-one. Gemini people are extremely verbal, love to give advice, and tend to try to guide (even control) others' lives.

Parts of the Body Ruled by Sagittarius: The liver, hips, and thighs. Sagittarian natives need lots of outdoor exercise in order to stay healthy. They have sensitive livers and are susceptible to overuse of alcohol and hepatitis.

Birthstone: Topaz. Releases occult powers and brings serenity to mind. It also protects from enemies and illness.

Special Color: Purple. Uncommon color of royalty and the artistic.

Danger: Sagittarian people are susceptible to accidents of fire and explosion, especially while travelling. Their strong desire for freedom may also incite jealousy and possessiveness on the part of a lover.

Famous Sagittarians: Woody Allen, Jane Austen, Ludwig van Beethoven, William Blake, Dale Carnegie, Winston Churchill, Emily Dickinson, Charles de Gaulle, Walt Disney, Jane Fonda, Pope John XXIII, Billie Jean King, John Malkovich, Harpo Marx, Charles Schulz, Frank Sinatra, Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain, Dick Van Dyke, Eli Whitney, the writer of this fic.

* * *

><p><strong>NAKANO AZUSA<br>November 11, 1992**

**Scorpio (October 23 - November 21)**

Duality: Feminine  
>Triplicity: Water<br>Quadruplicity: Fixed

_Scorpio is imaginative, passionate and emotional, subtle yet extreme, persistent, intense, obstinate and unyielding._

Ruling Planet: Pluto. Ancient god of the netherworld and of the dead. In astrology, Pluto rules regenerative forces and the beginnings and ends of phases of life.

Symbol: The Scorpion. A secretive, deadly creature than can poison its enemies. Its sting is often fatal.

Polarity: Taurus. Scorpio is the sign of inheritance and legacies. Its natives are given a sense of purpose and destiny to go with their cat ears and pigtails, and find truest happiness in dispensing their life-force to others. Taurus is the sign of possessions and owning, and people born under this sign want to collect and have. They will not easily let go of what belongs to them.

Part of the Body Ruled by Scorpio: The genitals. Scorpio people are susceptible to infections of the urinary system and venereal disease. In addition, their volatile emotions are often the cause of ill health and exhaustion.

Birthstone: Topaz, same as Yui's.

Special Colors: Crimson, burgundy, and maroon. The glowing colors of passion, and of Azu-nyan's eyes.

Danger: Scorpio people evoke anger in others by their secretiveness and jealousy. Their sharp, stinging tempers can also enrage others to the point of violence.

Famous Scorpios: Marie Antoinette, Richard Burton, Walter Cronkite, Marie Curie, Feodor Dostoevski, Michael Dukakis, Billy Graham, Katherine Hepburn, Grace Kelly, Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther, Claude Monet, Georgia O'Keefe, Pablo Picasso, Sylvia Plath, Emily Post, Dan Rather, Will Rogers, Theodore Roosevelt, Hermann Rorschach, Jonas Salk, Leon Trotsky, Voltaire.

* * *

><p>AN

As soon as I got my state ID (this was shortly before Halloween, 2010; I was eighteen) I bought a pack of cigarettes. I had no intention of making smoking a habit. I just wanted to try once and see what it was like. I hated it. It felt like a hot rake in my throat. I wasted ten bucks on a pack of Marlboros and four bucks on a pack of lighters just to smoke one damn cigarette. I did, however, get an idea for a chapter.

And to dispel a really lame myth, smokers do not smoke because they think it's cool.


	30. Winter Nights

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Thirty**

**Winter Nights  
><strong>

Nobody seemed to miss Ritsu when she departed for Mio's. Her mother's temperament had gone from cold avoidance to shy uncertainty; either way the woman wasn't speaking to her daughter, but now she at least made eye contact, smiling whilst the drummer cracked jokes with Mr. Tainaka over a dinner of salmon ikura don (which is delicious). During the meal Satoshi's wide hazel eyes remained downward, as if a rogue force of gravity was anchoring them exclusively. He ate as an anorexic would — spreading the food around his bowl but never putting it in his mouth — and didn't dare utter one word.

With him and Kanako silenced by the Berkenstock-garbed elephant in the room, that left only Ritsu and Shoutaro to do the talking. The former wondered how long it would take for her love of her childhood friend to silence the latter as well. She felt like an agent of destruction.

_Why don't you say something? _she wanted to scream at her mother. Kanako's benevolent eyes and strained smile cranked up Ritsu's nerves in all the worst ways. Plainly the woman had something to say, but she was holding the drummer responsible for saying the first word, a burden Ritsu thoroughly resented. And she knew both of them would stubbornly refuse to bring this up, like that childhood game to see who can be quiet longest. It was the Tainaka way. If her family had a crypt the words _I Don't Want To Talk About It _would be carved on the cement seal.

_Why don't you calm down? _she wanted to ask Satoshi. Surely the sight of her kissing Mio was a shock to his heart among other things — Ritsu could appreciate that — but at this point the shock had to have worn off. No dice: his face had that same ashen expression of disbelief and shame that he had worn upon first glimpsing their embrace.

So they found out their daughter and sister was a lesbian, Kanako and Satoshi did. What was so scary about that? Ritsu was the one who had laid awake at night, wondering and fearing what this attraction to Mio might mean, wondering what Mio was doing, thinking, feeling. Ritsu was the one who rolled the dice and told Mio how she felt.

So what were _they _scared of?

And why the hell couldn't one of them just _say _something?

The answer to the first question was fairly straight-forward: they were afraid of her. _I'm not a leper! _she wanted to scream at them with their pity smiles and terrified eyes. _Talking to me, at least asking me to pass the water pitcher, is not going to hurt you!_

But she could not say all those things. She was a Tainaka.

"I've got an idea," she told her stone-faced family on the way out. "The next time we have something to talk about, let's talk about it!"

* * *

><p>Fresh new snow slid under Ritsu's feet as she trekked the half-block over to Mio's. It was still coming down, and rather heavily at that, the flakes the size of yen coins. About half a mile away the gold lights of a snow plow stalling at a red light flickered, casting the flakes as shadows, like a million shaded spirits spiraling down to earth from the moon-glowing clouds. The whole town seemed to lie still under a blanket of snow and silence, making Ritsu's footfalls boom almost obtrusively.<p>

Granted, this diamond beauty was lost on the drummer, who was more focused on warming herself up and never was one to stop and smell the roses anyway.

Even though Satoshi had accidentally brought her and Mio's encounter to an abrupt, untimely end, what the two of them had going on in Music Room 3 up until that point was still pretty great. Ritsu could not argue that. The upset over having him find out about them did not erase, or even mar, the memory of Mio's great breasts, so warm and soft, crushed against hers; her silken tongue, wet with their mixed saliva, hotly sliding against Ritsu's; and her hand, not roughly seizing her breast as shje had before, but gently pulling at her private flesh, using just enough seductive pressure to communicate her intentions...

And here on the snowy sidewalk with the Akiyama residence just one door away Ritsu's consciousness snapped, a phenomenon she liked to call the braingasm: when you entertain a sexual fantasy without masturbation and you experience an orgasm that's more mental than physical (she also tended to get these whilst harboring revenge fantasies). She paused for only a moment, eyes wide and a bit wary of her mind's lust, before she continued to walk, slowly. In those remaining steps to her girlfriend's house Ritsu had a realization that made her giggle for numerous reasons, the two most prevelent of which were nervousness and disbelief.

_Mio's turned on by me._

It would be a lie to say that during the first month of their relationship Ritsu hadn't thought about her girlfriend's hand plucking something other than her bass, but come on. _Anyone would fantasize about Mio because she's gorgeous, _the drummer thought, burrowing her blushing face deeper into her scarf, _but what does she see in me? _Ritsu had no figure, no narrowing waist, no hips and only little knobs of flesh for breasts. Her torso was barrelesque. And yet Mio wanted her as badly as she wanted Mio. And laughably enough, shy Mio was the one making the grabs and gropes during their makeout sessions.

That she was walking closer and closer to her first time was another realization Ritsu had when she found the Akiyama driveway empty and the lights on. Mio's parents had gone out for the night. Realization hardened into certainty, and it was only that and a thick coating of ice that kept Ritsu from continuing on up the driveway to the front stoop.

_The ice, _the brunette thought with a laugh. She remembered going to the ice rink with Mio when they were younger, where the raven-haired girl would cling to the edge, wide-eyed and pale with terror, and "practice my triple salchow in my head," as she would say. Ritsu then wished Mio's house was closer to Sakuragaoka, instead of the other way around, so that on her way to school each morning the drummer could catch a glance of her girlfriend with her arms flung out and pinwheeling, precariously attempting to utilize that trick she learned back in '92 on the slick driveway.

At the front stoop Ritsu knew here she had come upon her last chance to change her mind about tonight. Her doubts were louder to the point of deafening in the brumal silence. Mio couldn't really want to have sex with Ritsu tonight, could she? And even if she could, was the drummer ready?

Showing her naked body to Mio was one thing. They had seen each other without clothes in hot springs and such, and that was fine. It was the act itself that bothered Ritsu nearly to the point of turning around and going back home: letting her girlfriend get an up-close-and-personal gander at her pussy, and — good grief — letting Mio see her have an orgasm. The brunette wasn't exactly sure what she looked like when she popped her cork, but she was sure that she didn't look pretty. _I'll bet Mio does..._And she tranced out a little, picturing what she imagined the bassist's orgasm face looked like, before shaking her head furiously, spraying some snow that had landed upon it.

This was ridiculous. She was eighteen, damn it, a woman, and women didn't whinge and cringe over sex. She was reminding herself of Satoshi, flipping her wig over trivial things. That she might get laid tonight was not cause for the red alert. People did this all the time. People had to do this to keep life going. But Ritsu knew this sort of jaded attitude toward sex would make tonight — if _tonight _was really going to happen — less special.

_Things are never going to be the same after tonight, _the drummer thought. The two of them were either going to elevate to a new level of love where they had a lot more freedom and things to say to each other, or they would have nothing left to say because they had experienced too much too soon. They could never go back either way.

It was a crap shoot with several encroaching doubts, much like Halloween, the night Ritsu declared her love for Mio...and the brunette remembered that epiphany that blew away the doubts like mist from her hazel eyes: Sometimes you just have to thrust yourself in the middle, no matter how ugly it might seem, or you were stuck creeping against the wall your whole life. That wall may have been the epitome of the Tainaka way, but it was not Ritsu's way, and so she—

The front door swung open with a wooden grunt, revealing Mio in a striped longsleeve shirt and jeans.

"How long do you plan to stand out there? You must be freezing."

"I'm f-fine," Ritsu replied, stuttering more from shock than the cold. She came inside, into the near-stifling warmth that was common in the Akiyama household, thinking that even without her girlfriend physically being there she still had her heat to keep her going. And so the Light Music Club's Energizer bunny with the drum ran on love.

As Mio shut the door Ritsu said matter-of-factly, "Your parents are gone."

The bassist nodded, turning toward her girlfriend. "They're going to the opera in Tokyo to see Madame Butterfly."

"Hm. Balcony seats?"

"No. They got row seats about midway back."

"Wow, then they must've had to get those tickets pretty far in advance."

Mio, then realizing what Ritsu was implying, blushed right up to her ears. Her fist clenched, and a reply about the laptop being the real reason that the brunette was here tonight leapt upon her tongue, but something — the bees in the basement whispering their enticing whispers — kept her from doing anything other than step past Ritsu and grunt, "Would you like something to drink?"

Parched though the drummer was, she still refused the offer. Having a drink would only delay her finding out if _tonight _was going to be tonight. After removing her shoes and throwing her coat and scarf down on the bench Ritsu padded into the kitchen to find Mio drinking a glass of water. With her jet locks streaming from her head thrown back, her right hand placed almost jauntily on her hip, and her tremendous bust which couldn't help but stretch out against the front of her shirt, Mio made an almost unbearably sexy sight. Ritsu felt bubbley warmth, a tingling electricity stir in her chest and legs, and she suddenly recalled that Pepsi commercial from the '90s. No wonder that ad turned men into fiends.

The temptation was to shove Mio and make her spill her water all over her shirt, but Ritsu remained glued to the wall, the very same way the bassist resisted the temptation to cuff the drummer. It was the Tainaka way, by gorry — stay quiet and wait for the other person to start. Neither of them seemed to want to make any moves, lest they should destroy any chances of _tonight _happening, so they waited for it to come to them.

Mio's head and arm plunged downward with a gruff sigh as she set the empty glass down. Her lips glistened with wet. When she looked up her slate eyes met Ritsu's, and her eyebrows arched peculiarly. "What're you smiling at? Is me drinking water really so interesting?"

"It is." Interesting in the most impure ways. The brunette hadn't even been aware of her own simpering, but it seemed the plain undeniable cheer she felt at simply _being _with Mio had pulled her listless mouth up again. What could she say? Mio was hers. Mio, the beauty who could have anyone she wanted, the girl over whom Ritsu pined and agonized in October, was hers as surely as Mio was Ritsu's (though a guilty, masochistic part of the drummer felt that she belonged more to Mio than the other way around).

"You're cold, Mio-chuan," Ritsu sang in her Girly Gertrude voice, using _anata _instead of her usual boyish _kimi_, "walking past me without a hello kiss!"

The raven-haired girl appeared to be unsuccessfully containing laughter at her girlfriend's wacky bravado, the way the back of her hand met her forehead as she swooned. Shaking her head good-naturedly, Mio stepped up to the drummer, her gentle hands sliding her hoodie along her waist. "Well, if you insist..."

Ritsu's arms twined upward around Mio's neck as the bassist pressed her mouth against the drummer's. The first kiss was like a tame appetizer before the main course was served. Ritsu leaned against the wall, surrendering herself easily as deep kiss after full kiss was lavished upon her mouth. Her skin rippled with excited gooseflesh that felt both hot and cold to her attentive nerves. Over her shuddering flesh slipped the cotton of her hoodie, pushed along by Mio's hands, which explored the brunette's torso as easily as her sultry, satiny tongue explored her mouth. Ritsu couldn't wait until dessert was up.

And then, a little too soon in her opinion, Mio withdrew her tongue and sealed her lips, breaking off the final kiss with a choked gasp.

"I need to breathe," the raven-haired girl muttered apologetically, leaning her head against Ritsu's. The drummer couldn't help but notice/watch her girlfriend's supple breasts rise and drop with every big breath, the front of her shirt straining and billowing, the stripes ballooning and caving.

_She really is turned on by me, _Ritsu thought, and another bout of shivers prickled her scalp, accompanying the throbbing heat in her chest on its downward course to her hips.

"That was some hello," she hummed, losing her hands in the sleek ebony silk that was her girlfriend's hair. She extended a leg to clinch it softly around Mio's, and as her legs crossed she felt that torrid, silky slip between them. Without a doubt, Ritsu was as wet as any girl could be. A potency, a virility the likes of which the drummer never knew arose within her, and she knew better than ever before that Mio was right when she said, 'You're the one, Ritsu.' _I can never feel like this with anyone else, _she thought, interlacing her fingers on the back of the bass player's head and nuzzling her softly. _With anyone else I could never be all that I am now, and I guess that's what makes Mio the one for me._

"Do you want to continue this conversation upstairs?"

At this Mio raised her head, and her face was that of a girl whose basic longing is overshadowed by uncertainty. Both the gleam of veneration and the pall of disconcertion were there in her pearlescent eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Ricchan?" The grey stripes across her breasts were still heaving.

Ritsu, her jaw set, nodded resolutely, and there was a firmness in her topaz eyes that Mio just could not question. She was sure of more than just that: she was sure that Mio meant more to her than anything. She was sure that tonight wasn't just for the fun of it, that she wanted to make Mio feel as good as she felt when she was around her. Okay, it may have been her first time, that was an unsureness her unaffected love for the reticent bass player had to contend with, but she was sure that the esoteric and elephantine weight of her first time was well-placed in Mio's steady hands. Mio would hold her and take care of her tonight, would overlook her inexperience and give her a pleasantly memorable first time.

Mio inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs expand cavernously, and, sighing, dropped her head back against Ritsu's. "As dishonorable as it is, I want it, too..." Her hands cupped her girlfriend's flushed cheeks as she planted a tender kiss upon her delicate lips. It was such a vulnerable kiss, full of desire, and the brunette knew that tonight was just as special and momentous for Mio as it was for her. "I've wanted it for a while..."

_I'll just bet you did, _Ritsu thought with a trace of amusement. But she knew better than to joke around right now.

Mio's hand dropped down to find Ritsu's, and, pulling her away from the wall, she uttered the command the drummer had come all the way over here to hear.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>Ritsu was reminded of her parents as Mio guided her upstairs. Whenever she saw Kanako pulling Shoutaro upstairs by his hand, she knew they were either going to argue of have sex. That the brunette didn't want to be around for either occassion made this her cue to skeddadle. It was times like those when she would show up at Mio's, unannounced.<p>

* * *

><p>Mio kicked the door shut, finding Ritsu with her hands and mouth. The lamp was on, but they were both sealed in the darkness of their desires, where feeling overruled thinking and smelling overruled seeing.<p>

Ritsu's headband was the first article of clothing to come off. Mio, whose backside was shuddering from feeling the drummer's hip pressed into the hollow of her own, was too excited to stop kissing her long enough to remove the thing. So, their lips embracing and their tongues wrestling, she held the brunette with one trembling hand and snapped the headband off with the other. It came off so cleanly — with almost no sound at all — that Ritsu wasn't aware of its absence at first. Then came that tickling, alien feeling of her bangs shagging in her eyes.

The drummer extended a hand, trying to feel her way around the room. Her fingers brushed a wall, and, holding her hand against it, stepped back a little, searching for the bed. It would remind her later of those HBO scenes where the guy opens his apartment door with his girlfriend fondling and kissing him at the same time. Ritsu used to wonder if such dexterity was possible, and now she knew it wasn't (for her, at least).

Mio was gasping between kisses, pressing all her important parts firmly against Ritsu's as she could only do now, helplessly, a slave to the brunette who didn't want to break free. She couldn't stop, couldn't pull away, not with every square inch of her skin burning and tingling with erotic flush, aching for Ritsu's touch.

A few steps backward brought them to the bed. The drummer's thigh caught its edge, and she tumbled, airborne for a second, upon it. The springs bounced her up just as Mio came tumbling in after her. Their lips reunited in another lot of exquisite kisses. Mio shifted her weight a bit so that she was not sprawled haphazardly across her girlfriend but suspended slightly by her hands.

Reality slapped Ritsu in the chest, shocking her lungs into breathlessness, as Mio shifted again so she was sitting upon the drummer's waist. Her hazel eyes cracked open to behold the raven-haired girl through an amorous crimson haze, straddling her, a leg on either side of her. A muscle in the ridge of Ritsu's hip fluttered, and she shivered.

_She really is beautiful. _The brunette was reminded of last month, how ugly she felt when compared to Mio. That hadn't changed, had it? Sure, you could put a white horse next to a pig, but that didn't mean the pig was no longer a pig.

Sex and nudity and such seemed comfortable enough to Ritsu when she was walking over to Mio's. When faced with their very real possibility, however, that confidence dried up faster than morning dew. The drummer no longer felt worthy of her girlfriend's ravishing beauty.

Mio snapped out of her own reverie, her grey eyes unclouding, to notice Ritsu's expression of distress. The tense corners of her mouth, one of her shadowed eyes peeping out between her bangs. "Something wrong?"

With a startled grunt, the brunette looked up, realizing that Mio was watching her. _She's going to be watching me do all sorts of things I've only ever done on my own. _"Nothing wrong," she lied. To prevent Mio from pursuing this any further she asked, "How 'bout you? How are you doing?"

"Nervous." Her eyes were bright with silver fire. "Nervous and eager." She laughed quietly, a corner of her perfect and exquisitely thin lips pulling up in a sly smile. Her raven hair rippled sideways as she cocked her head. "I keep waiting for your parents to come in and bust us."

"They won't." The drummer's whispered reply burst out a little forcefully, as though she was urgently pushing this prospect away. The two of them shifted backward (forward, in Mio's case) so that Ritsu could rest her head on the pillows. "It's just you and me tonight."

Above her the bass player's eyes slowly crawled over her, relishing the sight of the brunette splayed underneath her — her hoodie rumpled over her chest and stomach, her hair a honey-colored halo around her head on the pillow, her amber eyes glowing. Mio's own eyes then came down to her left hand grasping the end of her grey-striped shirt. Fingering the cotton thoughtfully, she whispered a bit guiltily, "Good. That's what I want."

Her other hand creeped along to clutch her shirt. She didn't see because of her downturned gaze, but Ritsu's heated stare was focused heavily on her hands; the drummer's eyes widened in anticipation of what those hands were about to do.

The anticipation wasn't in vain. Their childhood — and all the purities, sorrows, and sweet secrets that went with it — which had been dwindling since this afternoon was banished to the edges as Mio hastily lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor.

Ritsu's dry throat clicked as she gulped. What she beheld was something she could only describe as skin — pale, smooth skin on Mio's neck which continued on through the rest of her lovely shape, seemingly endless were it not for her navy-blue bra clasped around her supple breasts. The drummer's hands prickled with the worst kind of longing, and she found herself needing — almost aching — to feel Mio's skin on her own. She slowly raised them, imagining her girlfriend's breasts, so firm yet so maddeningly soft, in them. Her nerve quickly deserted her with the faintest promise of returning later, so instead she rested her hands upon the denim clinching Mio's thighs. Watching, only watching for the time being. Watching and stewing in her juices whilst her girlfriend took the reins.

The raven-haired girl had her arms clamped around her torso, not hiding anything private but still appearing contained. A feeling of _rightness _had overwhelmed her, a sense of the circles of past and present clicking together with almost triumphant seamlessness. They had been children together, Mio and Ritsu, and now they were about to be grownups together. They had shared their childhood worlds, which was every single bit as intimate as tonight was, just in a different way. Mio's fears, Ritsu's petpeeves, Mio's ambitions, Ritsu's joys. All little spheres of their selves, which they had shared as kids, and tonight a few enormous spheres were going to be shared. If they were going to grow up together they were going to grow up all the way.

Her bare arms pressed her breasts closer together, making her cleavage longer and deeper. The lamp cast soft but heavy shadows in that crease which ranged from black to glowing peach. The sight caused muscles Ritsu didn't even know she had to jump and flutter deep inside her vagina. She arched involuntarily, and these muscles clenched, sending desire throbbing through the most sensitive part of her. Her arms and chest were sticky with sweat; she wished she could at least lose her hoodie.

_She can't help it, _Ritsu thought. Her sense of smell was so acute she could smell the air blasting in and out of her nose. _She can't help having such big breasts. She can't help it if the slightest movement of her arms makes them..._The muscles acted up again, and the drummer arched again. Mio hadn't even touched her yet, and she was already on the fast track to an orgasm. Or a braingasm. One of the two. _She can't help driving me crazy._

Ritsu caught Mio's smirk and gasped, "What're you laughing about? I'm dying here!"

The bassist laughed, a soft affectionate giggle, leaning her cheek in her palm. "You just answered your own question, Ricchan." Her private flesh rippled and shimmered with each laugh. Ritsu felt like a light-headed drunk on a bedspin.

Mio leaned in, and the brunette reflexively moaned as her breasts came in closer, dipping slightly, though still supported by her bra. Her left hand pulled tenderly through her loose bangs, her palm rubbing against her forehead. The feeling was very good, soothing, like an Eskimo kiss in that regard, and Ritsu closed her eyes. Seeing _and _feeling got her too worked up. She needed to only feel things for a moment.

A whisper of her girlfriend's breath traced her jawline, sending an exhalted shiver up and down her spine. In her left ear she heard Mio's husky alto voice: "I was just thinking, 'Look at her. She loves me and she can't take her eyes off me.'"

"Both true," Ritsu responded. "Both very true." She opened her eyes a little and smiled at Mio, her cheeks glowing. The raven-haired girl's eyes smoldered like embers. "I don't think it's..." She paused as the words snagged in her parched throat and turned her head so she could press a hot cheek against Mio's. "I don't think it's possible for me to love anyone more than I do you, Mio."

That smile from earlier, that _oh, Ritsu _smile, was back on the bass player's blushing face as sure as a spark of sentiment was in her eyes. Her hand ran lightly from Ritsu's brow to tenderly cup her jaw. Their lips brushed together, locking gently around each other, a breath of love and desire. Then Mio shifted a little so she was directly above Ritsu. The brunette couldn't look anywhere but up, though she did take a peek at Mio's cleavage before their mouths reunited in kisses that were secret and sweet. Somewhere in the middle of this liplock Ritsu pulled back to add, "And God knows you turn me on like no one else."

The drummer's nerve fulfilled its promise and returned, setting her hands in motion. They first lingered on Mio's rear end before spiraling up her back, getting a feel of her fiery flesh. At her girlfriend's bra-strap they halted, uncertain. Her right hand pinched the hooks, but didn't undo them until Mio broke the kiss to whisper into Ritsu's panting mouth: "Do it."

And Ritsu did.

Mio sat up, shrugging off her bra as the straps slipped down her arms in a whisper of nylon. The cups dropped easily to her stomach, allowing her round, pale breasts to tumble free. Her small nipples seemed to make eye contact with the awestruck Ritsu from their circular patches of darkened, sensitive skin. The whole time the owner of these breasts watched her girlfriend stare. Mio had thought she might not be able to handle this moment, but now she oddly found herself not minding the drummer's ogling. It pleased her, actually, made her feel a kind of pride.

The bassist's gaze settled on Ritsu's breasts heaving through the folds of her hoodie, then returned to her eyes, wide with almost delirious joy. _Just look at her. Getting all excited for me when she's the one who's exciting._

Finally something erupted in Ritsu's mind, something perhaps set off by the nigh-hypnotic sight of Mio's constantly moving breasts, and with a frustrated squawk, she forced herself up in a half-sitting up position. One of her girlfriend's breasts buffetted her face with the brief sting of a nipple, but this hindered the drummer only slightly. Her arms shot upward, her hands behind her head clasping her hoodie. She yanked the thing off with a series of grunts and a final victorious growl. Her hair stood up crazily from static electricity, and her baggy teal shirt slumped, exposing a shoulder and a yellow strap.

_Fetching, _Mio thought.

"I can't take it anymore!" Ritsu gasped. She paused only to gape at her girlfriend's naked breasts, which were closer to her face than ever before. "I need you, okay? I feel like I'm gonna explode!"

_She certainly took a lot before reaching this point. _Mio let a hand sweep over the bare shoulder, pausing ponderously at the strap, thinking of what it held up. She tilted her head to kiss Ritsu's neck softly. "How's that?"

"That's..." The drummer gulped. "...good."

"Good." Mio led a trail of tender kisses, loving caresses from her lips, along Ritsu's shoulder. And the rumpled T shirt did nothing to stop her. She kissed the brunette's collarbone, her lips hard and insistent through the cotton.

Ritsu was staring up at the ceiling, thinking of Mio's mouth in places other than her own, when she looked down oddly, seeing if sensation and sight were matching up. Yes. Mio was planting curious, searching kisses upon her breast through her shirt.

When she became aware of Ritsu's gaze the bass player paused to ask, "Is this good?"

"It's..." Ritsu was painfully self-conscious about her breasts. They were the second-worst thing about her body (first was her tummy, and yes, she had ranked her insecurities), and she would never expose them easily. But then she saw Mio's eyes locked on them, burning with such intensity, and Ritsu then knew how badly she wanted them in her mouth. Even if your breasts were terrible, was it really such a bad thing for them to be wanted? And honestly, Mio's firm lips on them _was _good, the best feeling she had had all night. "Yeah," she whispered sweetly. "That's really good."

Smiling, the raven-haired girl gently guided Ritsu back into her reclining position. Her captivating breasts swung and pendulated as she did so.

Mio didn't have nerve so much as hard, loving certainty to guide her through _tonight. _It was that which prompted her to quickly hike up Ritsu's shirt over the gentle domes that were her breasts. Her other hand reached for her back to unhook her bra, which was a gray push-up type with yellow trim and piping, and she eagerly pushed it away. She never hesitated, though the drummer could feel her hands trembling with excitement.

Ritsu's breasts neither tumbled nor swung free of their holds. Rather they seemed to quietly appear as her bra was swept away. They were tiny, no larger than tea cups, yet her nipples were large and distended. Ritsu didn't even have time to think about how much she hated them, for Mio's head immediately dipped and she took the drummer's left breast in her mouth.

A panicked purr shuddered in Ritsu's throat as sauna-like heat surrounded her breast and Mio's tongue found her nipple. The brunette's nipples normally laid flat on their areolas, though the one in her girlfriend's mouth quickly hardened as her hot, silky tongue swept over it repeatedly and mercilessly. Each stroke sent a jolt through Ritsu's ribs and a tingle along the curve of her breast. She didn't suppress her moans and groans as Mio did — the bassist limited her pleasure sounds to gasps, chokes, and sighs. Ritsu let every whimper and cry slip involuntarily out of her mouth, and she arched, letting the jolts and tingles spread to the rest of her body.

Minutes later — too soon, it seemed to Ritsu — Mio pulled back, her eyes shining reverently at her girlfriend's nipple glistening in the lamplight. She sighed, and the cold air on Ritsu's warm nipple earned the raven-haired girl another groan.

"You have sensitive breasts," Mio quietly observed amid gasping breaths. She accentuated this observation by running a finger along the now-puckered areola. In her peripheral vision she saw Ritsu tense up in response, her eyes turning back up to the ceiling. She was blushingso badly that the redness spread to her collarbones.

Mio pressed one more longing kiss upon Ritsu's breast before continuing her trail south. And the drummer knew where this trail would end. She desperately clutched the sheets, shivering with anticipation as the kisses fluttered lower and lower. When Mio's lips grazed her bellybutton Ritsu felt the bassist's breasts pressing warmly and provocatively into her hips. She thought she might faint. She knew that if she were a boy this would be where she'd prematurely shoot in her pants, and for once she was insanely happy to be a girl.

Mio's kissing trail halted at the denim lip of Ritsu's loose-fitting bluejeans. She raised herself up to unbutton them. The drummer kept her eyes to the blank ceiling, which seemed to swirl in her excitement, but she could feel the front of her jeans loosening by the work of hands that weren't her own, could hear the stacatto _fwip! _as Mio unzipped her fly. Then her girlfriend's whispered instructions: "Raise your hips," and Ritsu instinctively did as she was bidden.

The bassist dragged the denim down her childhood friend's legs, watching as the bluejeans receded and the smooth flesh extended. When the jeans were bagging around Ritsu's ankles Mio returned to her hips to brush her white panties off.

Ritsu squinted at the ceiling, knowing what was going to happen and knowing that she was as naked as the day she was born.

Her dark eyes locked on the powderpuff of light brown hair between Ritsu's legs, Mio stood on her knees to remove her own pants. There were slants of color rising along her cheekbones, and her face was no longer composed. It was now desperate and haggard with overexcitement. Poor Mio needed Ritsu badly, as badly as the drummer needed her. Her breasts rising and falling, the raven-haired girl peeled off her own jeans at a frantic pace, revealing familiar blue-and-white striped panties.

_Those must be like special commemorative panties, _Ritsu thought, her head lifted to watch Mio strip. _And here I thought she would want to burn those after that festival._

Underneath her drying left breast the drummer's heart was _blasting. _Heart Goes Boom! Ritsu was certain it could be heard all the way in Ireland.

Mio threw a nervous glance at the closed door, paying no mind to her open laptop and the new message on its word processor. "Tell you what, though," she panted. "It wouldn't be cool if _my _parents were to come home now." She closed her eyes in despair. "They'd bust my chops so bad..."

"Don't, Mio," Ritsu pleaded. It was all she could say. Here she was, spread-eagled on her girlfriend's bed and ready for her. Mio couldn't pull away now.

"You're right." It was only 19:45. Her parents wouldn't be home till midnight. Her pearlescent eyes settled back on her girlfriend's pussy as she pulled off her panties, exposing a thatch of black short-and-curlies. "Sorry."

"'Sokay. Everybody goofs it sometimes."

Ritsu's head dropped back to the pillow, and she awaited the inevitable. The tension and anticipation were bordering on unbearable, her mind racing the same thought insanely over and over: _She's gonna go down on me, she's gonna go down on me, gonna go down, go down on me go down on me go down on me._

She felt Mio's shaking fingers pry apart her lips, laying open and vulnerable the most sensitive part of her. Her breath whooshed over this part, her engorged clitoris, sending a pang of need all the way to her private opening. "Oh, Ricchan," came Mio's voice from down below, muffled. "You're soaked."

"Can't help it." Ritsu's reply came in hollow bursts. She couldn't take it. She couldn't take it. She needed Mio down there. She needed to feel Mio in her helplessly throbbing clit. She needed to frocking _explode..._all over her. Her thoughts broke up, subjecting her brain to feeling rather than logic, as her right hand slipped downward to grasp the bassist's head. She knew it was rude to force her girlfriend down on her, but..._she just couldn't take it._

Mio's tongue, firm and smooth, touched the tip of Ritsu's clitoris — the place where the touching is best — and a cold shock laced with erotic fire erupted in the drummer's sex. Her spine leaped, and her head snapped back like a woman being hung, and she cried out — she had to.

The fire down there settled into tingling embers, though her back still burned, begging to be shocked again. Mio's tongue didn't come a second time immediately, and Ritsu supposed her reaction had startled her. Maybe the bass player thought she was hurting her childhood friend, and that lick _had _hurt, no doubt about it. The pleasure had been so raw and so tremendous that it overflowed into agony. But that was okay, that was alright. It hurt so good.

"Don't stop," she whimpered. "Please, please don't stop." _I don't mind if you hurt me, just please make me come._

Mio's tongue came back, and again and again, searching for the perfect rhythm. Ritsu's poor back arched and arched until it never lowered, just simply remained tense, bracing itself for every burst of sensation that rolled through it. She took every lash of her girlfriend's tongue the way a slave takes every lash of his master's whip, knowing the reward that awaited her.

It felt a little surreal to Ritsu, to be a girl of eighteen and losing her virginity to her childhood friend. She turned her head toward the nightstand to find that framed photograph of them when they were ten. It was taken in the summer, and the two of them were sitting in the grass under a tree. The sunlight was dappling haphazardly in their hair. They were laughing. They were kids, goddamn it, kids with many years of innocence ahead of them, kids who had yet to know the bittersweet bites of love and sex. And here those same two kids were, eight years into the future, throwing away that innocence they had thrived in for pleasure so great it was painful.

With her free hand, Ritsu turned the frame face-down on the nightstand. Let them throw the innocence away, she decided. Was she, Tainaka Ritsu, to be a child forever, creeping fearfully against the wall? Or was she going to be a grownup and thrust herself in the middle of things? She could do the latter. She could. Even if she was far away from the safety of the wall with no way to turn back she would still have the girl who lingered against the wall with her.

Maybe sex really didn't make things complicated. She was still Ritsu, drummer of Afterschool Tea Time and president of Sakuragaoka's Light Music Club. Sex couldn't change that.

From down below Mio's muted gasps could be heard: _Mwuhh, mwuh, mwuhhh..._Ritsu was discerning that her bass-playing childhood friend was not the moany-groany type in bed. And that made her all the more loveable to the drummer.

Ritsu choked, "Be my friend...I love you, Mio."

"I love you, too," the raven-haired girl replied, smiling into her friend's sex. The brunette's private pores had opened, releasing a spicy odor that tantalized Mio.

Ritsu felt her climax coming, raising up in her gut slowly, higher and higher. She moved toward it, working for it, never doubting it would come. Her body suddenly stuttered and seemed to leap upward, not orgasming but reaching a plateau far above any she had reached by herself. The come was going to be huge, titanic, and Ritsu became a little afraid...but her body picked up the rhythm again, rolling her hips in tandem with Mio's tongue. The tension in her tummy seemed to the break, and her climax plummetted like a nuke to explode between her legs.

...and the explosion sent her whole body up in its convulsions.

"Mio!" she sobbed, letting her body throw itself against the tsunami-esque waves of a mind-blowing orgasm. Everything was overflowing and pouring out of her: sweat, tension, love.

"Oh, my God," Mio gasped, caught up and swept along by her girlfriend's tumultuous waves. Her tongue withdrew; then she hesitantly touched it to Ritsu's streaming clitoris one more time. Right away the brunette had a second orgasm, something neither of them knew was possible for her.

Eventually the waves ebbed away, leaving Ritsu on her back, exhilarated and satisfied, exhausted and happy, her back still lifting a little from post-orgasmic aftershocks. Her nipples were soft again, settled into their swollen beds of cherry blossom-colored skin, asleep. After a moment or two Mio's head popped up from between the brunette's legs, and Ritsu smiled at her facial expression: as if she had just come back from a war. She reared up on her hands and knees, her big breasts dangling, her nipples pointed at where her mouth had been minutes ago, and she crawled toward the drummer. Murmuring her name affectionately, Ritsu held her arms out, welcoming Mio into them. Before she could settle into her best friend's embrace the bassist snatched a tissue from the box on her nightstand. Going down on Ritsu had left her with a little lip gloss, which she wiped off before meeting her in a much-needed kiss. It was a you're-my-hero sort of kiss.

For the next half hour they engaged in a regular, healthy post-sex makeout session — long, sweet kisses with a couple nips and nibbles in between; nurturing massages along their backs, heads, and arms that both relaxed and stimulated them; a few whispers about what turned them on the most tonight.

Another half hour later Mio was spooning the slumbering Ritsu, drifting into her own sleep. She stirred the smooth skin on her girlfriend's arm as she sleeped her warm sleep and dreamed her own dreams; and she thought that it was good to be a child, but it was also good to be a grownup and be able to consider childhood...its beliefs and desires. _I could write a song about it, _she thought, but it was only a night thought, a drifting-off thought. But it was nice to think so in _tonight_'s ressurecting wake, to think that childhood has its own sweet secrets and confirms mortality, and that mortality defines all courage and love. To think that what has looked forward must also look back, and that each life must make his or her own imitation of immortality: a wheel.

Or so Akiyama Mio thought that winter night as she remembered her childhood and the beautiful young woman in her arms with whom she shared it.

* * *

><p>AN

A reviewer once asked which song Mio thought of at the end of this chapter. Mio is not thinking of any song. I came up with that last paragraph on my own.

I did, however, borrow lines from Ne-Yo's "Closer" at some point in the sex scene.


	31. The Thirty First Chapter

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**The Thirty-First Chapter**

Had Yui not smoked a cigarette, the weekend and the rest of the school year would have been different.

But Yui did smoke a cigarette in Azusa's presence. She had walked home with the kouhai, a chummy arm about her shoulders. When they had arrived at the Hirasawa residence Yui had taken Azusa in her arms, pressed a cold cheek against her girlfriend's, her voice a thick rattling wheeze of a whisper — making plans for tonight and saying some certain three words — and kissed her with enough warmth to melt the ice caps. It was one kiss: only a person who ate ashtrays for breakfast could bear more than that.

Yui and Azusa did all those things together, and the whole time the former had the stink of cigarettes on her clothes, hair, and breath.

So it stood to reason that Azusa's father, Hikaru, stopped her as she rushed past him after dinner toward the front door. Her pigtails streamed behind her as she darted past, and one of them brushed his nose. If they were characters from _Negima!_, this would be where Hikaru would sneeze Azusa's clothes off. But as it was, the man only paused as he caught the sour stench of cigarettes in his daughter's hair.

"Azusa," he called.

She was only a few steps away from him when she immediately halted and spun around, whipping her father with another snootful of smoke-smell. She pawed the floor impatiently with her foot, eager to leave and to go see Yui.

"Have you been smoking?"

At this there was a _thwump! _as Mitsuki set down her book on the living room couch and stared sharply at Azusa.

The guitarist's eyes widened as she realized the misunderstanding her parents were getting. She felt like smacking her head with a cinder block. _Of course! It's because I smell like smoke! Why, oh why didn't I shower as soon as I got home? How could I be so stupid? _She shook her head furiously, pigtails whipping to and fro. "No. It wasn't me. My gi—uhh, my _friend _has her eighteenth birthday today, and, y'know…she's…um…legal?"

Azusa trailed off. She could see by the looks on her parents' faces that this flimsy excuse was holding up about as well as a tree house in a typhoon. She started backing away towards the door, backpack over her shoulder and coat slung over her arm. "Um…Well…Bye." And she darted out the door, closing it deftly behind her. Neither Hikaru nor Mitsuki had time to ask her where she was going.

He put his hands on his hips, his babyish face bearing the exact same annoyed his daughter wore sometimes. "Her attitude sure is rotten these days."

Mitsuki nodded. "And she definitely has a boyfriend. In _fact_," she bleated, her right index finger shooting up, "she has a _smoking _boyfriend!"

"Are you still on that?"

"You know I'm right, Hikaru." She was leaning eagerly over the sofa arm. When she got like this he began to wonder if she had gotten over their high school days at all. "Remember last month, how she hardly ate and — for all we know — slept? She was definitely in love then."

He turned his garnet eyes upward. "Then why didn't you talk to her then?"

Mitsuki scowled. "I'm not gonna ask her if she's seeing anybody. I don't want to be that kind of mother."

_What kind of mother do you think you're being right now?_

"She has an older boyfriend," she mused, cupping her chin and grinning cat-like. "Azusa likes 'em older…She probably picked him in hopes that he could teach her a thing or two." She winked at her husband. "That's why you picked me, ne Hika-myuu?"

"I'm out of here," he grumbled, trudging toward the stairs. When Mitsuki began giving him high school girl nicknames he knew it was over. He had a lot to think about and no time for Mitsuki's games.

"Hikaru," Mitsuki sang. "Since Azusa's out of the house what would you say to a 'lesson'?"

The black-haired man paused on the stairs. He lifted his chin, feeling a spark of interest fluttering in his penis. When it came to Mitsuki's games he and that crazy trouser-mouse were never on the same page. "What kind of lesson?" He looked over his shoulder at her, trying to keep his face disinterested. But those signature burgundy eyes never lied.

Mitsuki shrugged, leaning on her elbows. She was wearing a low-cut red top displaying inches of yummy cleavage. "Come over here and you'll find out."

He felt he already knew what this would be a lesson in, and his feelings were confirmed when he arrived at her side to receive a sharp downward jerk of his zipper.

* * *

><p><em>I can't believe I did all that back there! <em>Azusa shivered for a multitude of reasons, the cold being the least of them. Steam whooshed from her mouth as she scurried along in the newfallen snow, as if she were a locomotive burning coal as she went. She had lied to her parents (again), outright refused to answer their question, and then ran on out when they were probably going to ban her from leaving. Her eyes repeatedly flicked toward the street, expecting her father's headlights. _All this lying needs to stop, _she thought desperately. And she thought for an angry moment that if she had to lie next time she wouldn't, and it would all come out, the truth.

Yeah, right.

Azusa arrived at the door with a dry mouth and racing heart. She glanced over her shoulder, thinking that if she turned back now and went home she would be returning to the same storm she'd probably encounter twenty-four hours later. _If I'm going to get in trouble, I may as well get away with something. _Besides, it was Yui's birthday, and she still had her present to give. She closed her eyes, smiling as she pictured the look on the senpai's face. _She'll love it, _the kouhai thought, blushing. _I can't wait to give it to her!_

She raised her small hand, and the door crunched open just as she rang the bell. Yui stood in the doorway, heavily shadowed by the foyer's buttery light, dressed down and casual in her Awesome Possum shirt.

Azusa blinked. "How did you know I was at the door?"

"It's weird," Yui smiled. "All of a sudden I thought, 'I wonder if Azu-nyan's here.'"

"You stole that line straight from a manga," the kouhai protested, cheeks puffing indignantly. _If you're going to be romantic be original about it!_

"I sure did," the senpai giggled. She took Azusa's hand and pulled her in, into the house and into her arms. They brushed lips in greeting, and the younger girl was pleased to taste cool mint on Yui's. She rewarded her girlfriend with a few more intense kisses that made the senpai groan softly. Her hands travelled up Yui's tummy — the brunette shivering as they grazed her sternum — to cup her face. It was then Azusa noticed that Yui's hair felt clumpish and wet. Her body also felt warmer than usual. She had just taken a shower.

"Hmph," the kouhai grunted, pulling back.

"What is it?" Yui asked.

"Nothing. Let's just say you're smarter than me."

Smiling despite her confusion, the elder girl led her girlfriend by the hand toward her bedroom. Azusa's heart sped up as she saw the door, and she berated herself for it. _What am I getting so worked up for? I'm just giving her a birthday present. _But anything could happen if Yui was moved enough by the present. _Moved to the point of…that? No way, _the kouhai thought, shaking her head.

Her heart rate kicked up exponentially as Yui closed the door behind her.

"Why're you closing the door?"

The senpai looked at her. "So Ui doesn't see us."

"Doesn't see us doing what?"

"Kiss and cuddle and stuff." Yui's face became thoughtfully troubled. "I think seeing us together upsets her for some reason."

_She's in love with you. _Azusa flinched as she remembered Ui's passionate declaration after her root canal. Ever since then a head-spinning myriad of emotions had racked the pigtailed girl. Guilt vied with annoyance. Guilt because she felt she had horned herself in and snapped Ui's love up from under her. Like stealing someone's boyfriend, a hanging offense in high school, never mind that Azusa had done it unintentionally. _It should have been Ui-chan kissing you and cuddling you behind this closed door. Maybe that's the way it's really supposed to be. Why isn't it?_

_Because I got to you first. _When Azusa was kissing Yui she always felt a perverse sort of pleasure, knowing she had claimed someone meant for somebody else. That was where the annoyance came in. Her hackles instinctively rose when she saw Ui with Yui, her palms would start prickling with needle-like sweat, and she would urgently think, _Come on. Buzz off. She's mine. There's someone else out there for you. _Why should Azusa give up what was rightfully and happily hers just so Ui would stop moping?

They sat together on Yui's bed, where the kouhai opened her pack to get her girlfriend's present. Fast-falling snow pelted the window, filling the eager silence with its tattoo. When she uncovered the present, shifting aside her pajamas to find it underneath, she smiled and peered at Yui from under her eyelashes. _You are going to be so happy._

The brunette already looked incredibly happy. A genuine radiant smile had spread itself across her face, and her cheeks were rosy. Every part of Yui's face seemed to glow with happiness.

_Is she actually _blushing _for me? _Azusa thought. This wasn't very Yui-like. The kouhai couldn't remember one time in their relationship where she caught her girlfriend blushing…Oh, wait. There was that time after their concert at Hair. Never mind.

Yui gasped as her present was revealed: it was contained in a satin gift box with a green silk ribbon. Azusa had bought it at the Ginza market — the box, that is, not the gift. The gift had been purchased at Macy's.

"So fancy," the elder girl chirped, accepting the box. "What could it be?" She held it an inch away from her right ear and shook it. Whatever was inside thwumped softly — possibly another article of clothing? Her curiosity overflowing, she set it in her lap, wrestled the ribbon off with some help from Azusa, and pulled the top off with a muted satiny scrape.

What was inside, swathed with tissue paper, elicited another gasp from Yui: a faux-fur-lined hat that covered the ears and tied at the chin. It was the Russian sort whose name escaped both of them — it had a name, they didn't know what it was, but they both agreed it was super-cute upon finding it in a magazine's Winter Must-Haves article. Azusa saw the hat and thought that there was a quality about her girlfriend that was perfectly suited for it. For Yui, it would be _the _Russian furry hat, the one Azusa gave her for her eighteenth birthday. It meant more than the world to her. It meant the _universe._

"Oh, Azu-nyan," she sighed, hugging the hat as if it were a precious pet. "Thank you so much."

"There's more," said the kouhai, tapping the box.

"More…?" Yui set aside the hat and plunged her hand inside the box, rattling and shuffling the tissue. It closed around a bundle of suede — the same material the hat was made of — and she withdrew a matching pair of gloves. "Wow!" she gasped, turning them around in front of her awestruck face. "These are amazing!" Though they were still attached by the plastic hook, she slipped a hand inside one of them. "The inside's line with fur!" she giggled, tightening her hand into a fist. "It's so warm!"

She dug through the box to see if there was anything more, and there was: a card. Yui was amused, though unsurprised, to find a cat on it. A grizzled old feline, possibly Photoshopped, crouched on its grey front paws before an awestruck tabby kitten.

Hallmark had expanded its repertoire to birthday-cards-for-senpai. Otherwise known as the Class B section.

Yui chuckled at the cheesy little joke, her heart warming at the little mash note Azusa had added inside. Tonight wasn't _tonight _for the two of them the way it was _tonight _for their friends three miles away, but _tonight _in a special way that was unique to them — a glistening relationship snowflake, like the ones skittering across Yui's windowpane. Their rattling allowed a familiar sort of comfort to steal over the two girls, whose relationship seemed to jump to a higher plane, giving them a wider range of love.

Azusa timidly lowered her gaze as a pink blush unfurled across her face; Yui could see her cheek lifting with a smile. "Well, um…Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Azu-nyan."

The kouhai looked up when she felt Yui's weight on the bed shift, heard a spring creak. Yui was drawing nearer on her hands and knees, like a natural predator stalking its prey. There was a vibrant eagerness in her face, an expression that just said, "I am going to kiss you." And kisses there were; one, two, and three; with the senpai's left arm clamped around Azusa's legs, pulling them perpendicularly across her own, the pigtailed girl all but in her lap, her right hand cupping her chin.

The dusty gentle brown of Yui's eyes filled Azusa's vision as she cracked open her own; then they withdrew to become the face of the person she was in love with. The person she loved was eighteen today, and they were spending this person's birthday together. This person was older than her, a senpai no less, but when Azusa was with this person she hardly thought about that. What was more — what was most of all — was that this person was so easygoing, so open, honest, and positive and uncomplicated that even a nitpicker like Azusa found it impossible to find a truly bad bone in this person's body. The kouhai knew that theirs was a better relationship than anyone could hope to have. She felt like a lucky girl to have this person.

But this person was a girl like herself.

Azusa didn't give a rat's chorizo what her classmates thought of her and Yui, but she did care a great deal about her parents. They wouldn't have to know the details, but she wanted them to know who she was in love with and meet Yui as her girlfriend (with her conscious and in the room). They would laugh together and ask each other questions, and one of her parents (probably her mother) would tell Yui one of those patented Embarrassing Stories From When Azusa Was Little. Her mother would bring out the photo album and show Yui that picture of three-year-old Azusa trying to eat a Crayola marker, her lips and teeth stained bright blue. After Yui left they probably would not say something along the lines of, "She's a looker. I get what you see in her," and for this the kouhai would be immensely relieved. Maybe they would talk about how much they liked her, how funny she was. But that wasn't likely; Hikaru and Mitsuki were harshly critical of all people except themselves.

Smiling, Azusa placed a hand on Yui's cheek, running her thumb over smooth feminine skin.

"Hey, I was wondering — have you told your parents about us?" she asked. Another question illuminated within her brain, and it overruled the first. "Where _are _your parents?"

Yui thoughtfully glanced at the ceiling. "In Rome now, I think."

"Rome?" Azusa sat up, knocking her legs out of her girlfriend's lap. "As in, Italy?"

"Rome's in Italy? I never knew that." Yui chuckled and brought her legs up, hugged them, and rested her chin on them. "They're almost constantly abroad. The last time I saw them was when I graduated middle school."

The pigtailed girl tilted her head, letting her shrewd (and often scarily accurate) intuition do some work. Two kids in close succession plus going abroad all the time plus the old lady she met over the summer (possible caretaker?) equaled something that reeked of irresponsibility. So, naturally, it went to ask…

"How old were they when they had you?"

Yui laughed nervously, her lower eyelids creeping up to make up for her lack of a smile. Her laugh was not her normal laugh but the strained imitation of one. Glancing aside at Azusa, the senpai hesitantly tipped her index finger toward her. "They were about your age."

"_Seventeen? They weren't even third years!_" Astonishment drowned out Azusa's brain, like an intellectual aneurysm, blowing it up like attire and letting numb shock settle over her for a few seconds. Never recently had the younger girl been so surprised. _At my age they were giving birth to my girlfriend! _Azusa had always thought of her own parents as extremely young, but it seemed Yui's had them beat in that respect, though not by much. She thought of how Mitsuki had to give up university to raise her; she ended up in community college years later. Hikaru's credentials didn't stretch even through all of high school.

Azusa asked, "Are they dropouts?"

Yui nodded, unable to look right at her girlfriend.

_How can they afford all this globetrotting? _It staggered Azusa to think that Mr. and Mrs. Hirasawa may have been to as many foreign countries as Mugi. _Something's off here…_

"So tell me about them," she said glibly. She settled next to Yui with her own arms wrapped around her own legs. The pattering of snowflakes on the window caught her attention, and she glanced out at the world, so big and cold and blank with snow, in contrast to their warm, intimate world.

Yui buried half her face in her sweatshirt, her nose resting on her arms, her voice — unusually solemn — muffled by the shirt. "You don't really want to hear, do you? They're, you know, NEETs."

"Oh, will you get off that? My mom's a college dropout," Azusa mumbled, rolling her eyes. "She belongs on a rapper's album cover dressed as a bear mascot."

At this Yui lost it, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples, howling with laughter until tears squeezed from her eyes. She leaned against the wall, hands clamped around her shuddering frame whilst her girlfriend shrugged, "Well, she does…"

Once her mirth died down the senpai brushed away her tears and, smiling, considered Azusa, her relationship with the kouhai. Maybe love was about so much more than the good and the beautiful. Maybe there was more to it than the scenes often sung about in songs: kissing in the rain, love declarations under the stars, holding hands on the beach, and all that other glamorous jobba-nobba. It had to get a little ugly, a little stormy, and maybe the best and strongest couples were the ones who could make it through the big nasties. Yui had an insecurity about winding up like her parents that was dreadful _and _secret.

If they were strong they could move past the hugs and the fur hats into something more potent.

"Alright," the older girl sighed. "I'll tell you about my parents."

* * *

><p>1990 was sixteen-year-old Kadoma Tsubasa's lucky year. After sending in five hundred applications, suffering through fifteen interviews and two second interviews she was finally hired on as a waitress at Warrington's, located on Suishou Boulevard, a restaurant that would go out of business in 2002 and be replaced by a Zen House Chinese restaurant in '05. Not that Tsubasa very much needed the money; a few months earlier she received a handsome check in the mail with more digits in the slot amount than her own telephone number. A relative she had never known had died, and this check was a small bequest from his will.<p>

Tsubasa's mother had been wary of the check, and she ended up depositing it into her daughter's savings. Saving the money for a university life Tsubasa would never experience…

In August Warrington's catered for the Sakura township's free-for-all softball games. After the sun set and the heat receded just abit from the air almost every boy from the ages of twelve to twenty-two would frequent the batting cage for a scratch game of softball, and half the town usually showed up to watch. The teams were like the Morning Musume girls in that they were never the same — the team you played for tonight could be the team you played against tomorrow.

Hirasawa Taiki, also sixteen in 1990, was one of the regular boys to play in the Warrington's games. He didn't play to work out his aggressions, like most of the others did, but because it was fun and he was good at it. Indeed he was a gem among the players, their star southpaw pitcher who threw a natural curve, and at bat he was a step closer to first base.

And so he was a step closer to first base and his fated meeting with Tsubasa on August 16, 1990.

* * *

><p><em>Whff! <em>"Steeee-rike two!"

Taiki flinched as the umpire's clear, foghorn-like voice rang in his ears, pealing through his helmet like some merciless bell. Usually this was a sound the boy Hirasawa loved, almost as much as he loved that clinking sound when the bat connects with the ball, sending vibrations through his long arms and the rest of his body, the power of the ball transferring to his legs as he dropped the bat and easily rounded the bases.

But this was not one of those nights. In his rush to make it to Warrington's on time Taiki had skipped his coffee and cake, thereby cutting off his energy and focus. He glanced apologetically over his shoulder at his yelling team mates in the dug-out. _Sorry, guys. You'll have to rely on somebody else for your victory tonight._

Beyond them he noticed the Warrington's waitress struggling with the beer keg cart, which appeared to be stuck in a mudhole. Her face was hidden by the bill of her white baseball cap with its cerulean curlicued _W, _but he could see her long brown ponytail cascading from the back of her hat, her long tanned legs extending from her white shorts, her blue polo fitting snugly around her torso.

_Who is that? _he wondered, his glasses slipping down his sweaty beak. _She looks like she could use some help._

At his team mates' hollering he faced front and cocked the bat, then struck out. The next guy in the batting line was surprised to not only receive the bat but Taiki's helmet as well.

"Not forfeitin, are ya?" he brayed in his Hanshin accent. "Ya can't quit, ya candy-ass!"

But Taiki could quit if he wanted to, when there were more important matters at hand. A hot summer breeze, like dry stifling air from an open oven, snapped at his Tokyo Yomiuri Giants shirt and ruffled his light brown hair. He squinted against the wind, focusing his wandering attention on the waitress. The shadow thrown by her hat obscured all her features save for her small chin and her mouth, which was now snarling with a combination of effort and frustration.

The ump yelped at him to get off the field, and Taiki complied, making for the waitress who stood away from the crowd, near the trees and shrubbery, tugging at the stubborn cart. Warrington's was a dusty brown block standing over them in the evening light. Taiki staggered over to her, ever plagued by a clumsiness in his legs made worse by him missing his coffee and cake.

"E-excuse me," he called when he was close enough.

The waitress looked up. The shadow cast by the cap's bill fell away, revealing round brown eyes — the very same ones she would pass on to both their daughters. One look into those eyes and the war was over before a single shot was fired; he belonged to her as surely as any young man belongs to any young woman.

_She's cute, _he thought with some amazement, his oily glasses slipping again. He had seen cute girls before, of course, but never any who could momentarily stop his heart just by looking at him. Her honey-brown ponytail fell softly to her shoulders like a pool of sleek topaz silk. Taiki found himself suddenly possessed by a need to know her name.

Confused by his silence, the waitress cocked her head and asked in a rich soprano voice, "Can I help you?"

Taiki's mouth fell open, and he stood there squirming in a titanic effort to get his thoughts out of it. The poor boy suffered from two speech impediments: a stammer _and _a stutter. "The cuh-cuh-cuh-art. Luh-let m-me help you w-w-w-with—_with_— it."

Whenever he talked to girls their faces would sort of draw away into themselves, or they would look away, or both. Any way, their actions spoke the same thing, loud and clear: _Oh God. Not a stutterer. _Girls laughed at him because of his stutter as much as they laughed at him because of his clumsiness.

But the waitress didn't laugh or turn away. She smiled at him, shocking him again with an even top row of teeth that were as brilliantly white as her shorts. "Sure. Thanks," she trilled, and her lovely voice — so sweet, so resonant, so maddeningly _feminine _— sapped what little coordinance the boy Hirasawa had in his long ungainly legs. When he reeled up to the cart one of his clumpish feet caught it and, yipping, he fell into the mud, smearing it on his jeans.

The waitress didn't laugh at him then, either. She helped him up — her hand so small and soft compared to the rough male grips he was used to — and asked him if he was alright.

"F-f-fine as freckles," he answered honestly. There was a rosy bloom along his cheekbones. "I sh-sh-sh-ould buh-be used to it b-b-by now."

She tilted her head, giggling a little. He knew what she was thinking, _I could tell, _and he liked her all the more for not saying it.

Taiki made his way around to the cart handles and gripped them. Just because he was clumsy didn't mean he wasn't strong, and just because he was skinny didn't mean he had no muscles. This waitress noticed the way they stood out as he yanked the cart with his left hand and held the keg steady with his right — lean but firm, blue cords roped around them. It took but a few tugs for Taiki to get the cart out; on the final tug he pulled just a bit too hard, and the cart suddenly flew up to bash the poor lad in the worst place he could be bashed.

"_Oooof!_" Taiki cried, falling like a ton of lead to the grass, his hands cupping his jeans, in which his bruised balls were undoubtedly trying to climb back inside him.

This time the waitress didn't bother asking him if he was alright — the answer was obvious. Before bolting back over to Warrington's she said frantically, "I'll get something cold for your — your — um…Don't move, okay?"

_Oh, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. _Taiki would have said this if he could, but the stabs of pain lancing from his groin to the root of his navel had him dumb. Probably every boy his age had at least one or two nutcracker experiences he could recall, though Taiki had quite a few more than yer average. A year later he would wonder at how he could babby up a girl with his busted testicles. Now he could feel tears brimming dangerously on his eyelids. He roughly armed them away, afraid this kind pretty waitress would come back to find him crying like a candy-ass (though getting hit in the balls was the only thing that could make him cry).

She came back minutes later to find him curled up with his head straining back, his legs and hands clamped protectively over his crotch, his brown eyes shiny and wounded behind his glasses. Sympathy and remorse stung the backs of her eyes as she approached him. She started to think that she should have never let the club-footed stutterer/stammerer do this for her…but she pushed that thought away before it could get completely through. _He was doing me a favor, _she thought. _If he hadn't come along my boss would've found me and laid into me._

She had a packet of frozen vegetables from Warrington's freezer wrapped in a rag she swiped from the sanitary bucket in the kitchen. She instructed Taiki to uncurl, and he haltingly complied, whimpering as the lances cut deeper into him. She started to place the vegetables on his lap, hesitated, and from where he laid he saw her face flush bright red. Then she went ahead and placed the cold pack between his quivering legs, then promptly withdrew her hands as if she touched fire. Taiki forgave her for her shyness, knowing if he were her in this situation he would do the same.

She murmured, "I don't know if it'll work, but I suppose it'll help," and she was right at that. The vegetables didn't clear away the pain in one fell swoop, but they did take the edge off, dulling the lances to throbs.

"I-i-i-it does. Th-th-th-ank you." He smiled a watery smile at her to show her he would be alright.

She sat in the grass beside where he laid, her long sun-kissed legs tucked underneath her. "I'm really sorry about that," she said, her eyes an ethereal mix of sweet and sad. She didn't add that he seemed so accident-prone for she knew that would offend him.

"Duh-duh-hon't sweat it. I'm f-fine. R-r-r-ruh-ruh—" He tried to say 'really' but then gave up. "This h-happens a luh-luh-lot."

"I still feel really bad." And she sounded like she truly meant it. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"N-n-nothing. Y-you d-duh-duh…"_ That I can just lay here and talk to a wonderful girl like you really makes up for this a trillion times over. _Taiki already knew this waitress was special among the other girls in the township. Years later he would say that he knew from the off that this was the girl he wanted to marry.

How do you know when you've met the right girl? You just know.

"But I do. That looked like it really hurt —" she shuddered "— and you didn't have to help me with that thing, so yeah…I owe you."

It did really hurt, that was for sure. It was an agony that she, being female, would never have the misfortune to know. Though he supposed she had some of her own agonies that he, being male, would never know.

"S-s-spend F-Friday night with m-me?" he suggested and steeled himself for rejection.

To his surprise she said brightly, "I was thinking the same thing myself." Her head was tilted, her eyebrows lifted. It was such a happy expression that he had never seen before on another girl. From her back pocket she whipped out a pen and a sheet of paper. She scrawled something and placed the folded paper upon his chest. "My phone number. It's my cell so you can call without fear of disturbing my crazy family. Call me and we'll plan Friday night a little more." She stood, brushing grass from her shins. "Now I have to get back to work, or else my boss will have a bird." As if the word 'bird' reminded her of something, she added, "I'm Tsubasa. Kadoma Tsubasa."

The Japanese word for soft down feathers. _Tsubasa, _Taiki thought. _So that's what you name an angel. _"Hirasawa T-T-Taiki…Um, y-you really want to tuh-tuh-tuh—_speak _with m-me on the ph-phone? Even though I st-st-stut-t-t-ter?"

Tsubasa nodded. "Yeah. I do." She grabbed the cart handles and began pushing the keg towards the bleachers. "I'll talk to you later, Taiki-kun."

"W-wait. The v-vegetables…"

"Don't worry. Warrington's gets inventory re-stock tomorrow and my boss could spare a cloth."

Tsubasa headed toward the bleachers, pausing to look over her shoulder at Taiki. She smiled, giggled a secret giggle when she saw him blush and avert his eyes a little too late. She continued with her work that night, humming a happy little tune. Yes, 1990 was a lucky year for Tsubasa, and it was looking even luckier.

* * *

><p>The rest, as they say, is just courtin.<p>

They were inseparable, Taiki and Tsubasa. They talked constantly on the phone (running up the T Mobile bill, to Mrs. Kadoma's annoyance) until his stutter lightened and eventually even seemed to disappear when he talked to her. They went out every Friday night and spent some Saturdays together as well, a coupla kids, a little puppy love as they called it in the old days, holding hands and kissing and feeling themselves merge emotionally into a good him-and-her. For Tsubasa her love was boundless and uncomplicated, a simple I-really-like-him feeling.

She attended Sakuragaoka. He attended Grant High School, the all-boys brother school to Sakuragaoka. In December, 1990 Taiki and Tsubasa danced in the schools' joint event, the Cherry Blossom Ball, and were elected best couple by the student bodies. Rumor had it that the Cherry Blossom Ball's best couple would be together forever, but Taiki and Tsubasa had more riding on that prospect than just the superlative.

One night in February, 1991 Taiki's parents were out of town and he invited Tsubasa over. She entered the house a virgin and left the next morning without her V card. They wouldn't find out until next month that they had made Yui, conceived her in love that was so raw and torrential that night they thought it would sweep them over the edge. They exploded together in an orgasm so powerful it could only be theirs. "You kids just think you invented sex," Tsubasa's mother was fond of saying, but hadn't they? With no instruction manual or federally enforced training period, hadn't they come away feeling like they had discovered something inexplicably modern?

On March 28, 1991 Tsubasa went to McKinley Clinic to learn that yes, she was pregnant. Congratulations, Tsubasa-san. Those words came from the doctor, not her mother, who spent the drive home scolding her daughter's ear off, her good opinion of Taiki suddenly turned foul. Tsubasa ignored her, preferring to think about what she should do. She rested her hand under the shelf where her tummy gave way to her pussy, thinking about what was growing inside her at this moment.

The first order of business was informing Taiki. She told her boyfriend, who sat stunned and white and silent, that she wanted to keep the baby but of course he should have a say in this decision as well. Taiki nodded, his stutter too strong for speaking, and he was glad she wanted to keep it for he did as well. He wanted her to do what she wanted to do, but he also wanted that baby. And with that decision made, Tsubasa was referred to her mother's OB, who in turn referred her to a decent midwife.

By May Tsubasa dropped out of high school, knowing it would interfere with the new life that would begin December 1, 1991 (by the OB's estimation) and preferring her classmates not watch her swell up like a balloon. Confused and desperate, she convinced her mother to transfer that huge check over to her own savings. Tsubasa used a fraction of it to place an offer on a house that would later become her daughters' home. She and Taiki moved in in June, much to their families' disapproval. "You'll be hot and starved," they said, "and you'll want us to pull your butts from the fire."

Hot they had been, starved they had not. There was a certain addictive quality to making love to Tsubasa while she was pregnant that Taiki couldn't quite put his finger on. But they were hooked on each other. With dozens of bills to pay they spent their evenings in, having fun that was one hundred percent free. Such was how they spent the second and third trimesters of Tsubasa's pregnancy.

The pregnancy had been normal, with an ultrasound near the end to evaluate excessive amniotic fluid. That was when Taiki and Tsubasa learned their baby would be a girl.

The morning of November 27, 1991 she went into labor. All day at Loyola Hospital she struggled to push this girl's huge head through her loins. The pain was like menstrual cramps on steroids (talk about pains that Taiki, being male, wouldn't have the misfortune of experiencing). At first it was mind-numbing and she had laid back on the bed, turning her sweat-slicked face to and fro and moaning, clutching Taiki's hand and squeezing harder as the pain got worse. When it became maddening, Tsubasa pounded the heels of her hands into her rotund tummy and screeched, "_SOMEBODY JUST GET THIS THING OUT OF ME!_"

"Don't worry, ma'am," the doctor grinned, poking his head up from between her legs. "Junior's on the Birthkansen bullet train."

"_OH GOD, NOT A 'FUNNY' DOCTOR!_"

The nurse was no better: a cheerleader. "C'mon, push," she chanted, as if giving birth was as easy as driving a car. "You can do it!"

"_I CAN'T…!_"

But at 2:01 P.M. she could, for that was when her daughter breathed and cried her first. Tsubasa didn't blame the baby for crying; after the sheer horror of that experience she felt a bit like crying herself. The doctor held up the baby, who looked like a gory screaming purple spud with a thick telephone cord twisting from her middle. But when he returned with her after the Apgar tests were completed (healthy scores all; good pink color, strong pulse, strong cry, average muscle activity, and strong respiration) she and Taiki found that their daughter now resembled an infant. She was swaddled in a pink wool blanket with a pink wool cap on her head. Everything about her was tiny. Even her breathing was tiny, sounding like the air had to travel no farther than the back of her proportionally large head to circulate. It was her skin that got Taiki — so fine and perfect it seemed to have no pores at all. She was unspoiled and beautiful.

"It's weird," Tsubasa whispered, holding the baby. "It's like suddenly there's a giraffe in the room or something."

"Yuh-yuh-yeah," Taiki agreed softly, extending a hesitant gentle hand to briefly lift the cap; he wanted to see what his daughter's hair looked like and he hoped that was okay. She made no objection as her hat was raised to reveal a fuzzy sweep of brown downy hair. Her round eyes were a greyish-blue that would eventually fade to brown.

"Hi, there," Tsubasa cooed. "You almost killed me back there, didn't you?"

They got Yui's birth certificate and took her prints — Baby's First Incarceration, Taiki joked — and she was theirs to take home.

Their first daughter had yet to get her first milk tooth when Tsubasa squeezed out their second daughter. Upon finding out about her second pregnancy (the baby was conceived just two months after the birth of Yui) Mrs. Kadoma insisted that if any woman worth her salt had to keep having babies the way Tsubasa was she should be married. And so Tsubasa and Taiki were wed near the softball field where they had met a year and a half ago on April 20, 1992.

Ui was their second daughter's name — a name that meant "gloomy" and "vexing," and it wouldn't be long before she lived up to that name.

The reasons for Yui's crying had been pretty straightforward and easy to resolve, typical infant problems. _I'm hungry! I'm sick! I downloaded in my diaper! _Yui as a baby had been so simple and easy to please, unlike Ui, who would screech and squawk 24/7 seemingly for no reason at all — or if there were reasons they were complicated and impossible to figure out. Taiki and Tsubasa actually began moving furniture to try and stop her crying. Maybe Ui doesn't like the couch over there. Let's move it a bit, and—nope. No soap. She wasn't hungry or sick or teething. She just wanted to scream.

"I c-can't satisfy her!" Taiki groaned, his head pounding with Ui's shrieks. He threw down the rattle he had tried shaking to placate her. "I-if she was e-e-eighteen this w-would be when we'd b-b-buh-break up!"

Tsubasa knew it was getting bad when she tried reasoning with Ui, talking things out with an ill-tempered baby. She sat up in the middle of the night, her third day in insomnia hell, her lower eyelids engorged and her eyes small, listless, and eerie. "C'mon, Ui, what is it?" she barked. 'I can't read your mind!"

Worst of all was when Ui's crying would get Yui started screaming, a circle in which screeching begat screeching. Yui would stop, however, if she got a ride in her stroller, outside and away from the constant din inside.

The crying did eventually stop, thanks to a certain elderly neighbor who showed up at the Hirasawa residence one Saturday afternoon. When Tsubasa heard the doorbell ring she had groaned, thinking, _Well, a neighbor's finally decided to complain. Maybe someone called the Village to tell them I've been starving and abusing my baby. _With a growing sense of dread rising in her throat like bile, she went to the door, opening it to find an old woman holding a baby chair.

Behind Tsubasa, Ui shrieked.

The old woman shrugged at the chair. "It worked on my grandson. Maybe it'll stop her crying."

She didn't sound presumptuous or condescending, wasn't angry or making accusations, and Tsubasa was willing to try anything (within reason) to get Ui to stop crying. Nodding, she stepped aside to let the old woman in.

Known to all who were younger than her as Obaachan (including Taiki and Tsubasa), the old woman followed the screams to the culprit, who sat in her own chair, her wailing dribbling mouth stretched wide open, her face scrunched in on itself, her shiny eyes streaming.

"What makes this chair so special?" Tsubasa queried.

With her kind permission, Obaachan lifted Ui out of her old chair and placed her into what would be her new one. She smiled at Tsubasa, "Watch and you'll find out." She flipped a switch on the chair's base, and with a soft _brrrrr _the thing began to vibrate.

Ui's crying stopped immediately.

Tsubasa's face opened with shock as silence — something she hadn't known the meaning of for the last few days — descended over the house. "It works!" she gasped breathlessly. "The chair's a miracle!"

"Something about the vibrations," Obaachan shrugged. "A lot of parents think it's controversial. But when my grandson was screaming his head off and I was ready to jump from the rooftop, controversy didn't matter in the least."

Tsubasa laughed. _I hear that. _It was so nice to see Ui's placid face, to get a good look at her eyes now that they were all the way open — they were brown, like Yui's. Ui's tongue poked dully from between her pursed little lips.

Obaachan chuckled dryly and lightly thumbed Ui's nose. Tsubasa, grinning, tickled her tummy, glad that she could at last do such things without having to worry about calming her down.

"Thank you…so much." Tsubasa inclined her head.

The old woman gazed at her thoughtfully before saying, "Hirasawa-san, you're not a bad mother."

Tsubasa smiled haggardly, for she had needed to hear that. She had looked like she needed to hear that: a run-down eighteen-year-old who had neither showered nor slept in days, needed a haircut, and smelled like barf. "I try not to be," she responded modestly.

"If so, then you're doing a good job."

It would turn out that Ui had been a colicky baby. At the age of six her pediatrician referred her to a children's allergist, who determined that she was allergic to dust. From then on Obaachan and Yui worked to keep the house dust-free.

* * *

><p>AN

Before anyone asks, yes there were cell phones in 1990...though they looked like huge old blocks with pixelated screens and thick antennae. That was back when you could play games on your cell phone for free. "Snake" had been my favorite.


	32. Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are**

Bruised mauve light — the kind you can find only on a winter dawn — glowed in Azusa's hazy vision as she awoke the next morning in Yui's cozy bed. The heat under the down comforter was near-stifling, causing the pocket of flesh between her breasts to pool with sweat; her grey night shirt was plastered to this valley of her chest. The soles of her feet and her palms tingled rawly with the stuff, intensifying that queer tender _beat-up _feeling Azusa got when her sleep was of the hard, head-clearing variety.

So refreshingly beat-up felt Azusa's body that for about three seconds she could not move and the world did not seem to exist as anything more than that purple dawn glow. Then she stirred — the pleasure she always felt in her muscles bordered on erotic — and took stock of Yui dozing next to her.

Her sticky chest shook as she laughed quietly. Some people have a knack for making the act of sleeping look like it feels so good, and Azusa supposed that morning she had the fortune of dating one. Yui slept on her stomach to the kouhai's left, just like before, but there was a carelessly casual fashion to how she was sleeping this time. Her left hand was up on her pillows next to her face, palm down with the fingers curled slightly, whilst her right arm hung over the edge of the bed. The right half of her face was crushed into her pillow, her pursed lips undoubtedly drooling.

Maybe it looked kinda gross, but it also looked like it felt good.

Azusa extended a sensitive hand to slip it under Yui's left one. Her hand brushed her girlfriend's sleep-warmed skin, and after a moment Yui reflexively squeezed it, sending pangs through Azusa's arm that felt both painful and wonderful. Then with a deep slow draw of breath that sounded like Yui's lungs were expanding to the size of bath tubs with sweet oxygen, the senpai woke up, releasing the younger girl's hand so she could prop herself up on her own. Her head was bowed, her eyes barely open. She still wore her sweatshirt under which, Azusa was certain, lilac-scented sweat poured and flowed. The senpai lifted her tousled head to squint at the dimly glowing window against which snow still glanced and skittered. Her slow breathing sounded like Yui was about five percent awake. Then her head turned the other way toward her alarm clock, and Azusa guessed that this glance at the clock was her girlfriend's reconnection to the waking world for when she lay back down she looked a bit more alert.

Whereas Azusa felt beat-up and tingly upon rousing, Yui could describe her wakening experience as feeling clogged, as if her entire body was suffering some sinus congestion that took half an hour to drain out of her, leaving her refreshed and completely awake. This half hour was typically spent in bed, laying there, her brain awake but her body half-asleep. Winter made the prospect of getting out of bed even less appealing, bringing to the surface such thoughts as, _I'm not getting up until it's as warm out there as it is in here._

Yui had dreamt last night of Chiharu. The two of them stood in Mansion Yamoto, in the acoustic room, the blank walls of which seemingly endless by the work of Yui's folly. She had commented, "You sure have thick eyebrows, don't you, Chiu-chan?" and rather than blow her stack over being called by her girlhood nickname as Chiharu usually did the ojou had smiled in her peculiar slight way and nodded, "Yes. But, you know…"

Yui knew what was coming but still jolted with shock as Chiharu pulled her right eyebrow off her forehead and confessed, "They're actually chocolate orange slices. Wanna try one?"

Yui wasn't so sure about this. The last time she ate eyebrows their owner had melted into a puddle of gaijin-goo. So the guitarist politely refused.

Her pale round face the very picture of open hurt and disappointment, Chiharu frowned, "You don't want one? But they're so 'in' right now!" She reattached her eyebrow, which wiggled on its own accord and snickered, "_That's right…We're so 'in'…"_

Yui then experienced a blinding flash of realization: _Oh my God! Those things are CONTROLLING her! _With a roar of triumph mixed with terror, the brunette tore Chiharu's eyebrows off her face and stuffed them in her mouth, the milky tang of candy chocolate oranges…

Yui had started awake when Chiharu dropped dead and eyebrowless to the floor.

Thinking of this dream must have caused a furrow of consternation to ridge the brunette's forehead for Azusa reached across the narrow gap between them to smooth it out. Yui let her girlfriend in her arms, a dozy embrace full of sleep-heat, the kouhai resting her head in the nook between Yui's head and right arm.

"What're you thinking about?" Azusa whispered.

"Eyebrows are kind of scary, aren't they? They control you and make you do things you don't want to do, but if you get rid of them you die."

_What…? _That one slapped the kouhai's blind side straight from the dark. She blinked blankly, then asked, "Did you have a bad dream?"

"I had a weird dream."

From Yui's night stand came the whine of a vibrating cell phone. Azusa knew it was hers; she remembered setting it on vibrate after leaving her house last night. She let it go, figuring it to be one of those "wrong rings" she frequently got these days.

Instead she pressed her sleep-tender body closer to Yui's thinking about how soft and warm she was, how good it felt to cuddle her, and how this beautiful, funny girl could worry about blindly and unwittingly following in her parents' footsteps. _NEET…_Azusa's heart had gone out for Yui, hearing about her irresponsibly and stupidly romantic parents, who had started going abroad before Ui's first birthday and her older sister's second. They not only missed out on an education and gainful employment but also almost all of their daughters' lives. _Every little thing Yui-senpai has done, every little accomplishment, no matter how trivial it may have been in the grand scheme of things…_Last night while hearing the story of Hirasawa Taiki and Tsubasa Azusa felt a blue-steel lump choke her throat to think that they didn't know — and perhaps didn't care — that Yui learned guitar from the ground up in a fraction of a semester. _Those…They don't exist to them, those accomplishments…_

And what about Ui? Did Taiki and Tsubasa know that, living on her own, their youngest child could run a household as well as any strict matriarch could? That she had taught herself the way of culinary arts far beyond the beginners' boiled rice? In the morning years of life people's accomplishments existed for the encouragement and approval of their parents — without Mom and Dad, who and what were all these small and grand achievements for?

Yui, as if reading Azusa's mind, lowered her chin until she could look right into her girlfriend's burgundy eyes and murmured softly, "Even if I've no parents, I still have family…more family than just Ui, too."

The kouhai nodded, knowing what Yui meant.

Her eyes seemed to darken, or perhaps it was the sparse light. At this tiny hour the black-haired girl could make out the dusty outlines of furniture. When a girl is in bed with someone she loves six o'clock I the morning can seem holy in its grandness.

"What I told you about last night…Not many people know about it, you know..." Yui's soprano voice was low, serious even. Azusa had never seen her like this. "I don't _want _many people to know…"

At last her solemnity seemed to break, and a warm smile spread across her face. Her brown eyes swam in the pre-dawn light. Under the covers her hand found her girlfriend's, and she squeezed it with firm and unquestioning affection. Keeping her gaze locked with Azusa's, she whispered, "I just want you to know right now."

The raven-haired kouhai slipped her other hand up until the side of it was grazing Yui's cheek. "Your secret's safe with me," she mumbled and moved closer, lips parting.

The brunette's eyelids were drooping, about to shut. "I know it is," she whispered just before closing her soft, full lips around her girlfriend's thin ones. It was a sweet kiss, warm and easy, and Azusa could feel it all the way up and down her spine.

Heat rose under the sheets as the two girls made out for the next twenty minutes, causing sweet sweat to stand out on their faces and pool under their shirts. Neither of them much minded the heat, especially Azusa, who drunk her girlfriend's flowery female smell into her lungs. She could practically feel the stuff rushing through her veins. Once during this time period her phone buzzed again, and again the kouhai ignored it. Anyone in their right mind would let the phone ring in this situation. Though Azusa dimly wondered who would be calling at this hour.

When Yui began to prod the younger girl onto her back Azusa let her. The senpai nudged, the kouhai guided, and then the former had mounted the latter in a new kind of embrace — one that felt curiously exhilarating to Azusa. Weird, exhilarating, and frightening. She realized that in Yui's bed, with the brunette on top of her, their mouths and tongues embracing as surely as they were, no adults around to infringe or interrupt, they could do that thing their baser sub consciousnesses cried out for but they themselves might shy away from. That sex thing.

Azusa groaned involuntarily and Yui pressed her mouth deeper. Aside from that utterance the only sounds that had passed between them were the light, fluttering ones of their kisses; the best and most intimate ones seemed to make no sound at all. Between every long, sultry kiss and every short affectionate one Azusa could feel Yui's breath puffing against her mouth, seeming to gradually quicken, their smooth tongues still touching even if their lips weren't. After one particular kiss and before another kiss that, Azusa was certain, got Yui's sexual motor purring, the kouhai had clamped her lips ferociously around her tongue, sucking. What she heard from her girlfriend while doing this was a sigh that — though not vocalized —came from deep inside her —the sigh of an extremely sexually excited woman. And after Yui pushed her tongue fully inside, hugging the younger girl's lips with her own, Azusa couldn't help thinking that hot winter morning that Yui was a senpai who really knew how to use it inside a girl's mouth.

Azusa felt Yui's tongue, felt her long body twining intimately over her own, felt the weight of her hands on either side of her pressing down on the mattress, knew Yui had her pinned, knew what Yui wanted to do with her. _So let her, _that baser mind murmured. _It's rude to object to a senpai's orders._

As the brunette lowered her body a little more, her braless shimmying breasts brushed her girlfriend's, and Azusa felt a jolt in them that was so strong her nipples felt cold at first before settling down into a hot throb. And indeed they had responded as if she was cold — they became hard, like flesh-encased bullets standing up from her twins, and they became sensitive enough to read the texture of her shirt. The baser mind whispered, _If yours get hard, then Yui-senpai's probably do, too._

_Are they right now? _Azusa wondered, and the urgent press of Yui's chest against hers answered that question.

"Oh, Azu-nyan…" The senpai pulled back a little, using the same low whisper as her husky sigh. Her brown eyes were bright, fiery, excited.

_Feel like pulling my kotatsu switch a little? _That line with all its absurd innuendo had let itself into the kouhai's brain like an uninvited guest, and she shoved it right back out before it could take its shoes off in her mouth. _Yui-senpai probably wouldn't get that one, anyway. _To suggest anything to Yui, sexual or not, you had to use a more straightforward approach, drop a few hints at least. So Azusa whispered, "Is your sister still asleep? If we're quiet, we could…"

"Pretty sure she's still asleep, since it's Saturday and all…" Sexual excitement lent Yui an odd maturity, in her voice at least. She cocked her head and noted, "You're not normally…like this."

Azusa knew this was true. A month or two ago she probably would have pulled a Mio and ran screaming from a situation like this. "When I'm sure of something I'll move right towards it." Her garnet eyes full, she smiled and brought a caressing hand along Yui's back, her strokes undisturbed by a bra strap. "I'm sure I love you. I know that you love me enough to let me in on something so personal and sad — on your birthday, no less. So…I thought…maybe I could let you in on something personal as well…?"

As usual Azusa couldn't put the things she was sure of into words. Hers and Yui's soap opera, if one were to exist, would be _The Nasal Slur and the Just Plain Inarticulate._

But the good thing about Yui was that she got the gist of things you couldn't quite express. Who was she to expect her girlfriend's constant and unwavering best? If she was to expect that much that would only mean she didn't know Azusa at all.

Or so Yui thought as she dipped her head — in which she could feel her torrid pulse pounding —and surged her lips deeply with her girlfriend's. Their affection that morning was intensely reciprocal, with both of them feeling good and wanting to make the other feel just as good. Wasn't there quite a bit to be said for the pleasure one experiences from making the girl he or she is with feel awesome, for that sense of irresistibility you are imbued with when she hugs you closer and her sweet, urgent voice gasps your name? Smut authors and men's magazine columnists might disagree, and Azusa, flying high as Yui hummed and arched into her back-strokes, would suggest these writers had quite a bit to learn.

The phone buzzed again, and this time the kouhai wanted either to turn it off or smash it. At its fourth peal she dismissed the possibility of a "wrong ring." Would a wrong ring really call so persistently at six in the morning? It couldn't have been Jun, she was asleep. Same with the Light Music Club…or, if anyone, it _could _be Mugi. She seemed like the type to subscribe to the old "up with the sun, asleep with the moon" truism. She could have been calling on an emergency: "I fell down the stairs and broke my wrist," for example. But if that was the case, wouldn't she also try getting through to Yui, too? The brunette's cell phone hadn't made so much as a text message beep.

_Vmm…vmm…vmm…_

And then the name of the ringer crashed inside Azusa's head like cymbals, and a dreadful numbness showered over her body: a rude transition from the plethora of sensations it was experiencing moments ago. Yui's lips moved against Azusa's still ones with an awkward smacking sound. Confused by her girlfriend's abrupt listlessness, she hesitantly pressed one more kiss on her gaping mouth, waiting for it to respond in kind by closing lovingly around her own. Rather, the only part of Azusa's lips that moved was the flesh on the top one that Yui stirred. More confused still, the senpai lifted her head to whisper, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Azusa only gulped, feeling the dry walls of her throat rub together roughly, and her wide copper eyes darted toward the nightstand. Her cell phone was vibrating so aggressively it turned donuts on the wood.

_Are you smoking? _Their sharp looks to match the sharp smell n her clothes.

_Oh my God! Who else would it be? _Azusa's right arm pistoned left toward the nightstand, turning her on her side and forcing Yui off her. Normally she could single-handedly flip her phone open, but now the nerves in her hands snapped and twanged like guitar strings; as a policeman places both hands on his gun to steady it, so Azusa steadied her buzzing phone with her left hand and flicked it open with her right.

"What?" she choked in a dry, terrified voice.

"What, yourself," Mitsuki sounded both pissed and pleased. "I hope you enjoyed yourself last night. Surely whatever roll in the hay you and your big mister smoker-san were getting in has to be worth the _looooong _chat we'll have when you get your butt home…which will be sometime around, oh say, _right now?_"

Azusa's cotton mouth fell open to affirm, just as she always had done. Yes, Mom. No, Mom. Of course, Mom. Just like the good girl she was conditioned to be. Hikaru and Mitsuki had trained her well.

But she didn't affirm, and her mouth clamped shut, lips slim and hard with anger. …No, she was past the point of being angry. She was _furious. _What was she doing wrong, huh? Here she was, having an innocent make out session with her girlfriend. Okay, it wasn't all _that _innocent, but she wasn't bothering anybody, was just minding her own business. And just look at this. Just _look. _She was about to be scolded, punished, maybe have her computer privileges revoked (and they were slim enough already, fifteen minutes a day). How 'bout all that happy crappy, eh? But really, it was the thought of this conversation of hers and Yui's — this talk that was so stark and loving that nobody else could have it but them — and this big (sex) thing they were about to do all squashed because of Hikaru and Mitsuki's driving need to know what Azusa was doing all the time that enraged the kouhai to the point of snarling deliberately, her heart slamming and her chest heaving like some cornered animal, "Mother…I don't know where you get the gall to call me at six o'clock in the morning and out of the blue order me to come trotting home like some stupid puppy, but I know where you can shove it. Good bye."

_Snap! _The sound of the kouhai hanging up on her mother.

Azusa sat still on the edge of Yui's bed, watching her hand wander to and fro in its uncontrollable shaking, feeling not like a human being but a hot bundle of twitching nerves. Her ribs jumped up and down with every swift shallow breath she drew.

From behind her Yui whispered, "Whoa. Azu-nyan."

The younger girl tried to sigh, only to find her fought-up lungs had no room for it. "Oh, Yui-senpai, what have I done…?" Saying that to Mitsuki had felt good. It felt like power, though perhaps she had experienced a bit too much of it. Power like this didn't feel good at all after it was wielded. "I just invited my mother to insert her nerve in a place where the sunlight is dim." Her voice was quavering and a tad shrill. "I guess I should head home…face the music…" She tested the floor with her trembling feet before easing herself full on it, like a person settling into water. "Sorry to leave you like this," she added, turning to face Yui.

The older girl nodded. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

_A little too late for that. _Azusa dressed herself in Yui's presence (with the senpai looking the other way) and managed to get her hair up in pigtails despite her unsteady hands. Last and best of all, her hands found Yui's face in the wan light and she kissed her goodbye, thinking only of how good this kiss felt to the senpai and how badly they had wanted each other earlier.

* * *

><p>Azusa's homecoming reminded her of that episode of The Powerpuff Girls, the one which introduces that nymphet villain Sedusa. The kouhai crept guiltily through the door and in the foyer to e stopped by her mother's high-pitched yet heavy voice which sounded eerily like Kuwatani Natsuko's.<p>

"And just _where _have _you_ been?"

Azusa started and turned toward the darkened living room. A yellow cone of light suddenly appeared, showing Mitsuki curled on the couch with her left hand grasping the lamp switch. Her brown eyes were flat with anger.

"Well?"

The shakes in the guitarist's limbs started up, her knees warning to buckle and her arms convulsing. _Oh, stop it, _she commanded her nerves._ Let her punish me. I'll serve my punishment and this whole thing will blow over. It always does. _Even for telling her mother to shove her wherewithal up her ass the extent of what Azusa was looking at was two months' grounding and no computer till further notice. _Fine. The library's full of 'em._

"Are you just going to stand there?" Hikaru asked, appearing in the lamplight behind Mitsuki, his arms crossed over his wide but short chest. "Come here a moment."

Her father's lectures, however, were things Azusa couldn't abide. They lasted for hours and they were usually nothing but thinly-concealed insults and scare tactics.

_Just face it. Sticks and stones, Azusa, sticks and stones…_

She got her shoes off and dragged her unsteady ass into the living room. She found the armchair to the left of the entertainment center and plopped down into it, ready for the long speech that could fill a novel, ready for:

_Where is your honor?_

_What do you think people think of you? What do you think people think of us?_

_Do you plan to live like this forever?_

_You won't get very far this way_

What she got instead, and this was from Mitsuki, was: "Who is he?"

Azusa was so heavily anticipating this dreaded lecture that she almost responded in kind with 'yes, Father' or 'no, Father.' This opener, though, sent her brain fluttering in confusion. What "he" was there to talk about?

"Huh?"

"Don't say 'huh,'" Hikaru admonished. "'Huh' is what stupid people say. We say 'nani desu ka.'"

"And don't play dumb, Azusa — it's insulting," Mitsuki added. "Despite what you might have thought, your father and I know very well what's been going on. And don't get me wrong — I was once a girl myself, so I knew all about having secret relationships and all. So who's the guy? What's his name?"

The kouhai thought at first that they had already found out about her and Yui: _I knew all about having secret relationships and all. _But: _Who is he? What's his name?_

"I remember when I was your age I fell head over heels for a certain cute boy who joined the jazz club I was in…" The loving look Mitsuki was giving Hikaru probably would have embarrassed or even sickened Azusa were she not still puzzling over this surprise-lecture. "I thought surely my parents would disapprove of us. So I didn't tell them. I dated your father for eight whole months, and my folks never found out. In retrospect, it was kind of disrespectful to turn my back on my family the way I did, but that's the way we kids are sometimes, ne? We forget people who will always be there to make things happen.

"Well, do you know, they found out about us in the most…awkward way." That awkward way had been Mitsuki's parents walking in on Hikaru doing it with her, getting right down to where the sweat forms in the crease and the heat gets hot and the pink comes glimmering through. "But, you know, they were okay with it. With us. To this day I have a good, stable relationship with my mom and dad — and your father has a good relationship with them, too.

"So you can tell us who your boyfriend is."

"Boyfriend?" Azusa spluttered, flabbergasted. Well, there it was. And, in a way, it made sense. If a parent suspects her daughter's in love, by default she would assume it was with a boy. Heterosexuality was automatic. Homosexuality, as the narrow-minded liked to think, was something you had to learn from the vile dogs who would also teach you to shoot up heroine, decapitate babies, and throw kittens in wood chippers. Homosexuals, both male and female, were the equivalents of sexist death merchants in Mitsuki and Hikaru's dawn years.

But she was born in 1970, he in 1971. Weren't they raised with love and peace, lava lamps and LSD?

"We'll be okay with it," Mitsuki asserted. "No matter who you're in love with, we'll be okay with it."

Azusa looked up uneasily, peering at her mother from under her eyelashes. "No matter who I'm in love with?"

Her mother nodded. "No matter who you're in love with — just as long as he treats you good."

Yui did treat Azusa good, plus eighteen percent interest. The older girl made her feel like the best person she could possibly be. If treats-you-good was the only prerequisite, and if Azusa could make her parents see just how good Yui treated her, they might overlook the whole homosexuality thing, might not see their daughter as a pervert or a child molester or any of the other false gay stereotypes.

"Well, now that I think about it, this was inevitable…" The pigtailed girl sighed, staring at her small hands folded upon her thighs. Her being female aside, her resemblance to Hikaru was total, and right now as she smiled to herself there was so much of him in her face that it both frightened and perked Mitsuki.

Maybe the homophobic parents thing was naught more than an old wives' tale. Maybe it really just depended on _your _parents, not the parents you've heard stories about. Maybe there was only one kid in gay history who ever got kicked out, but his or her story got passed around (and edited)through so many generations that people believed that this was something an about-to-be-uncloseted homosexual had to constantly scan the horizons for. It had become like those cancer warnings on cigarette packs: _Remaining closeted now will greatly reduce your risk of being evicted. _But perhaps the GayDA needed to reassess this warning. _Those parents who tossed out that kid are not my parents, _Azusa thought.

Even if her parents were conservative a strained relationship with them was more likely than being kicked out. It was a new era, by God, a stronger loving world in which families didn't do stuff like that. The boggy homophobe gene pool was shrinking more and more. Even some religious people were more accepting of it.

And hey — in two years "don't ask, don't tell" would be repealed in the United States. And in two years civil unions would be legal in the state of Illinois.

_Go on! _Azusa yelled at herself. _Stop dithering and go on!_

"First of all, what I was doing last night, it wasn't what you think it was." The kouhai doubted this disclaimer would reach her parents. _You can't get pregnant from screwing a girl, if that's what you're worried about. _"Last night I was with my…my…" She almost said _friend, _and instead pushed that word away. _Friend. _It was an uncomfortable word. It was a homophobe's word.

This was hopeless.

"Um, listen," Azusa mumbled, trying a different approach. "I guess I have to tell you something important now, and it's…it's hard. So just listen, please."

She looked at her parents. They didn't have any particular expression on their faces. They looked ready to listen.

_Say it, you idiot!_

_I'm a lesbian._

_Yurizuka, FTW._

She lowered her head, as if bracing herself against wind; closed her eyes, hiding in their darkness, said quickly, "Mom Dad I'm gay," and waited for the storm to break.


	33. Homeward Bound

**RECORDING**

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**Homeward Bound**

A little girl in pigtails once upon a time tapped her shoe together and said, "There's no place like home." Another girl with pigtails had no such place to call home anymore.

* * *

><p>Ui was in her bedroom, sitting upright in bed with a leg tucked underneath her and the mighty tome <em>Gone With the Wind <em>in her hands. She was on page 115, and Miss Scarlett was about to confess her love to the handsome and eccentric Ashley Wilkes when the doorbell rang. The ponytailed girl ruefully marked her place and got up; she had been soaring high with Scarlett's audacity and had been eagerly anticipating this moment from the first chapter, though she was sure Ashley would turn her down.

As she headed for the door an odd feeling gripped her, sending ice chips rippling up her back. It wasn't _dread, _really, but it was some sort of premonition — an inkling that this unsolicited visit was not the kind the Hirasawas normally got, which was from their next door neighbor, Miz Lawn Maintenance. Miz Lawn Maintenance dropped by unannounced every month to complain about the grass on the side of their house or the trees in their back yard or the weeds (which was probably her most reasonable complaint). She one time even called the Village on them. But it had snowed last night, concealing all of their lawn's faults in a trillion winter diamonds, so Ui couldn't imagine what Miz Lawn Maintenance would be around for.

It was Azusa.

"Azusa-chan? You're back already?" It was only seven-thirty in the morning.

Then Ui took in the state Azusa was in. The guitarist's head was lowered so her black hair obscured most of her face. Her nose was flushed and swollen, as were her lips. Two fireworks of color had exploded on her cheeks. She wore a coat, no shoes, and carried a black duffel bag in her hands.

Azusa took a deep breath, and the sound of it was grating. She asked in a low voice, "May I talk to Yui-senpai?"

Ui hesitated momentarily out of curiosity and worry. _Why does she have a suitcase? _She knew asking this would only make Azusa angry, so Ui turned around to call for her sister…only to find her appearing from the kitchen, nibbling a granola bar.

Yui blinked. "Why's Azu-nyan here?" At her voice Azusa looked up, flashing eyes that were puffy and stretched around the lower lids, irises bright and shiny and livid, little red branches crawling across the whites. "Azu-nyan?" Yui squeaked. "What's wrong?"

Huge hot tears spilled from the pigtailed girl's stinging copper eyes, making her throbbing red face glisten.

"Everything," she croaked, then began (or rather resumed) crying in earnest. The first sob came out as a bark, something she had held in for too long. The rest of her bawling followed in hard gusts. "They threw me out. My p-p-p-parents threw me ow-how-hout…"

* * *

><p>Azusa thought she should have known they wouldn't like this. They knew a couple whose son had killed a Shinto priest while driving drunk. They had friends whose eldest daughter sprinkled a Bundt cake with Comet, and knew of a child who, high on spray paint, had set fire to the family's cocker spaniel. But they never spoke of a family with a homosexual daughter…and that struck Azusa as meaning it was an unspeakable horror, like Nanking.<p>

There had been the time, when Azusa was ten, when Mitsuki talked about an old classmate of hers who now taught P.E. and who had an older brother. The woman was asserting that a girl should never be had after a boy, that it should be the other way around. "You should have a girl and then a boy," she had said, "because if you do it the other way around the girl will end up…that way."

"What way?" li'l Azusa had asked, sipping Kool Aid.

Mitsuki had looked dreadfully uncomfortable, and seventeen-year-old Azusa, recalling this, realized with a pang in her heart that to her mother the word 'lesbian' was like 'beetle juice.' She had said instead, "Funny."

"Funny how? Funny as in, no arms and legs?"

Her mother had looked at her sternly. "That is not funny. That is tragic. I'm talking about funny as in…" And she had placed a hand on her hip and attempted what seventeen-year-old Azusa supposed was boy's jaunty hipless strut, but with Mitsuki's supple hips she had looked like a waddling duck, and ten-year-old Azusa had giggled; it did indeed look funny, though she still didn't get it. Mitsuki had nodded approvingly at her daughter's mirth and looked for a moment at her flat girlish chest underneath her tanktop, her gaze loving but pitiless.

* * *

><p>Ui slumped back on her heels in shock, her scalp prickling with the confusion roiling underneath it, <em>This explains the bag, but why would Mr. and Mrs. Nakano kick her out? <em>She and Jun had been to Azusa's house several times, and to her the Nakanos seemed to get along like a happy family. The parents didn't contradict or embarrass Azusa in front of Ui and Jun, didn't start quarrels with her or each other, and even provided junk food for their visits when Ui knew they preferred healthier things for their daughter's diet. But there was something in Azusa with which Ui could identify, and that was that she had young lovey-dovey parents whose educational credentials weren't based on more than a GED exam.

Parents who gave up on their kids.

Parents who discovered an ideal lifestyle that their kids didn't fit into.

_Did they kick her out because she's dating oneechan? _Ui wondered. She had heard about stuff like that happening to homosexuals, and the idea of it horrified her…but didn't surprise her. Her wonder was confirmed when her sister and friend began fighting.

There was a gap between the two of them which gradually closed as Yui approached Azusa. Not knowing how else to console her girlfriend when she was in such monstrous distress, the senpai attempted to hug her, only to be roughly shoved away.

"_Don't touch me!_" Azusa snarled.

They recoiled from one another, Yui staring at the kouhai with shiny wounded eyes and Azusa looking away with her arms clasped protectively around her chest.

In a low, coldly furious voice, the younger girl said, "I feel _dirty _for having been with you. It's all your fault I'm homeless now." Her voice rose to a thick liquid dirge as she regarded Yui with miserable eyes. "I wish I'd never met you — you with all your stupid hugs and nicknames. _I wish I'd never met you! _If I'd never met you I wouldn't be this way! I'd be nuh-nuh-normal!"

This unleashed another round of sobbing, the kouhai's cries so passionate they were silent and so strong they bent her over with one hand on her knee and the other cupping her red, contorted face. From between her fingers glittering teardrops flew to the floor. An dfor a few moments her wet breaths were the only sounds in the sullen household.

Ui's eyes flicked to Yui, waiting for her to make a rebuttal or comeback or some sort of reply. Her sister said nothing, only stared at the floor with a concentrated expression, as if she was working out some math problem. Azusa carried on crying, and Yui made no attempt to hug her this time.

_You guys were doing so well, _Ui thought. For the past month the ponytailed girl had internally fought back and forth for and against this very moment, But now that she saw it unfolding before her eyes (she never thought she'd _witness _this moment), saw Yui's face reddening with anger (an emotion she seldom expressed), Ui knew she preferred them giggling together and fawning over one another. Sure, it made them look like  
><em>(my parents)<br>_a couple of loons, but when this time came when one emotionally tore the other apart, there was something to be said for all that loony fawning and giggling.

Yui raised her head and noticed Ui. Her eyes were on her little sister for only the briefest of brevities before they swept back to Azusa. "Are you sure we should…in front of…?"

Azusa looked up at Ui as well, and the ponytailed girl flinched. Azusa's glare was hot enough to be radioactive.

Looking — scratch that, _glaring _— back at Yui, she replied, "Tell her all you want. I don't care anymore because you and me are quits." Yui's mouth fell open, and Azusa turned away from her hurt expression. "Tell her everything. Have a freakin' family. You probably will anyway." And then, feeling quite small, the kouhai added feebly, "And you'll leave them behind. You know why? Because you really are a NEET…To me, you're just some fat-headed failure."

That last line sounded and felt like a whipcrack. Yui made a quiet choking sound, a breathless sound, and Ui regarded Azusa with wide surprised eyes. Heavy silence fell, and one could almost feel the house bracing itself for an apocalyptic breakup. Had there been a studio audience this would be the part where they'd intone in low, dreadful voices, _Ooooo._

Yui took a step backward, her hands clenching and unclenching in tandem with her rapid breathing. _She's angry, alright, _Ui thought, but she thought it was a flimsy rage thinly masking sadness. Nobody made fun of Yui's parents. Nobody. If you wanted to be written out of her good graces, you called her a failure like her parents. Yui stared impassionately at Azusa, not saying anything, and one probably would have thought she was trying to come up with a retort.

Instead she turned around and stalked out of the foyer and up the stairs, hands still gripping and releasing thin air. Ui made a step towards the stair case, remembering Yui's bitter face on a walk home from primary school after a long day of bullying (_Where's your momma? I hear she's gone an' left ya! Hah! She left ya 'cause even she knows you're a moron!_) when the ponytailed girl had tried to console her (in retrospect Ui thought she had been much too young to have such a bitter facial expression), but from upstairs came the hollow clatter of Yui's door slamming and, as a final punctuation to a powerfully wordless statement, the sharp snap of a lock. She wasn't speaking to _anybody._

The insides of Ui's legs spun with useless energy as she tried to figure out what to do. Azusa was homeless. Yui was locked in her bedroom, probably crying. The brunette looked at Azusa, who returned her expectant stare. _What are you looking at _me _for? _she wanted to cry. _I have nothing to do with this! I'm just a third-party member, a side character! Why do I have to be the one to do something?_

_Because it's your household and your life, _a UFO voice in her mind told her softly, and Ui would suppose maybe that voice was the adult counterpart of herself, the grownup in her placing a strong hand over her unsteady one and guiding it, just like her first grade teacher did in penmanship classes. _You're the main character in your life, and now you have to take a stand, Ui. And once you take a stand you have to accept the consequences. It might hurt. It might hurt badly. Be the one who keeps pushing forward, no matter how badly it hurts._

Ui didn't know if this was useful or not, but she decided for now she would get out, get some air, let her brain breathe, not be stared at by people who wanted her to make a big decision. She grabbed her coat from the closet, pulled on winter boots over her socks.

"Where are _you _going?" Azusa asked, and there was a snappish fury lingering in her voice which Ui didn't care for.

"Out." The ponytailed girl turned to face her friend and, feeling like her inner adult voice personified, ordered, "You are going to stay here."

"Why do I have to?"

_Don't you think you've yelled enough for one day? _Ui thought wearily. But she had to push forward, no matter how much this hurt. "Do you have anywhere else to go?" she inquired, not unkindly.

Azusa flinched, and then her face seemed to lower to reluctant submission.

"Try to make up with oneechan. At least apologize for calling her a fat-headed failure. That was really mean."

Ui left the house and immediately almost took a spill on the slick front stoop. She made a mental note to scatter salt on it, wishing Yui could think to take care of some of these things. If it took two people to run a household, her sister didn't make the best hubby.

Sakura township lay still in a milky winter morning. November 28, 2009. Those Christmas products that the Ginza market had had on the shelves since the first of the month would probably be starting to sell now. The snow plows last night had done no more then cut ruts into the street and knock over some mailboxes. Ui hesitated at the driveway's end, gratefully noting that her mailbox was still intact, hesitated again…and then headed east toward the Kizuna-Suishou intersection. Crossing Suishou and then hanging a right on Miyazaki Lane would bring her to the park where Obaachan used to turn her, Yui, and Nodoka loose for a few hours. Sometimes the grownup chaperone had been Manabe Sonomi, Nodoka's mother, until a "friendly neighbor" reported to Obaachan that her smoking was terrifying the playground kids.

There was someone who lived near that park.

Ui pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed this someone. She headed toward Suishou Boulevard as she talked, walking alongside the curb.

"Hi, Jun-chan, sorry to bother you…Can you meet me at the park…?"

* * *

><p>Jun was already at the park when Ui arrived. She stood beside a snow-covered bench, hands in her pockets, staring at the paper-blank sky. She was the only person there at that park, nothing more than a grey shadowy sentinel watching the land.<p>

Ui slid through the snow as she made her way uphill. The sounds were huge in the winter silence, and Jun spun around.

The bassist's mouth fell open. "H-HI," she greeted, her face red from more than just the cold. Calling someone to the park — there had to be something romantic behind that, right? Rebounding lest she should sound like an idiot, Jun asked smartly, "So what did you call me over here for at eight A.M.?"

Ui apologized for the inconvenience, and Jun insisted it was okay, because she was already up anyway, had even had her coffee. Then, Ui dropped the bomb: "Azusa-vhan's been kicked out of her house."

Jun's jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"She told them about her and oneechan, and they forced her to leave," the ponytailed girl went on. She paused, recalling the duffel bag in guitarist's hands, and then the fact that she hadn't been wearing shoes. _They must have been merciful to let her pack her things, _she thought, _but then they shoved her right out the door. _She pictured Azusa, glassy-eyed with disbelief, pawing around her bedroom in search of things to take out into the world with her. An idea was rising up like an elevator in her mind, and she looked at Jun.

"We need to convince Mr. and Mrs. Nakano to take her back."

The bassist hesitated, and then nodded. She was smiling.

They set off immediately for what was previously known as "Azusa-chan's house" with Ui in the lead, wishing she had a car to take them over the great distance. At the same time she did't mind the walking, felt like she had things under control with her legs moving. She had a plan. She had a _plan. _She had something that would resolve this problem that had placed itself on her knees, something that felt stony-solid, like a full stomach.

Maybe the plan was shoddy. But this was a chance Ui had to take. Nobody thought their efforts were good enough, did they? But sometimes they just were.

_Oneechan…_Ui thought of Yui's stricken face when Azusa had called her a fat-headed failure. She hoped Azusa was following her order and trying to make up with Yui.

When the Nakano house loomed into view Ui realized she just might be okay with her sister and Azusa together, in a final analysis. And in a nitroblast of realization she thought she figured out what about them dating really bothered her underneath the stealing-oneehan-away-from-me bit. They had reminded Ui of her parents, how young and stupidly in love they were. They had discovered something new, something original, and this whole time Ui had groundlessly feared that they would leave her behind, the very same way her mother and father had.

_But nothing could be farther from the truth, _she thought. Because when she thought about it neither Yui nor Azusa had turned their backs on her. Love was a thing to be between two people, but family anfriendship could have so many more links than that.

Besides, it made that big house a lot less lonely. With more people living in it, it felt a lot more like a home.

At the driveway Jun abruptly began snickering, and Ui swiveled her head this way and that in confusion. Then she noticed the Nakano mailbox, which the snow plow had shoved over like a playground bully and now canted steeply backward and to the right. The flag had been ripped clean from the box and now lay, a red L, in the snow.

At the front door Ui jabbed her gloved finger in the doorbell, a brief two-note chime. A moment or two later there were muted faraway staircase footsteps and a silhouette wavered behind the window. Then the old wooden door snored open.

It was Mitsuki, who still looked as flatly angry as she had when her carpet-munching daughter had come home for the last time.

_You think you can trust someone, _Ui tought. Really, what Mr. and Mrs. Nakano had done to Azusa was the reverse of what Taiki and Tsubasa had done to her and Yui. _You can't just abandon your family._

"Ohayogozaimasu, Nakano-san," she greeted, bowing. Jun also bowed, though not quite as deeply as Ui, and she regarded Mitsuki with baleful eyes, chewing her lower lip.

Mitsuki didn't return their greeting.

"Uh…" Ui found her coldness a little disheartening. Nakano Mitsuki had always been a lively woman. But then she did lose a kid today…voluntarily. "A-Azusa-chan's at my house, and—"

At her daughter's name Mitsuki was turned off completely. The front door came swinging back toward Ui. Jun shot her arm out and not only stopped it but gently forced it back open.

Mitsuki faced Jun now, returning her baleful stare. In an angry little voce she said, "It is rude to show up adults like this. What would your mother say?" The last line was probably like some joke to her; Jun's mother was dead.

"It's rude to shut the door on people who aren't salesmen, politicians, or Jehovah's Witnesses. What would _your _mother say?" On 'your' Jun's body punched forward and her eyes flashed wide and challenging.

The temperature of Mitsuki's glare and voice climbed, reaching a roaring boil. "I suggest you stay out of this. Both of you." She glanced at Ui, and her face seemed to cool with some sort of recognition. "You're not in this — this is just Azusa and that _whore _of hers." The word 'whore' was drawn out to sound like _horrr. _"I won't have a daughter who lets some _horrr_ sit on her face. That's not a good woman's place in the world."

_Watch it, lady, _Jun thought, eyes flashing again. _Women who live in glass whorehouses shouldn't throw stones._

Ui looked up, shooting Mitsuki a glower that could rival Azusa's radioactive one. Call Yui a whore, will ya? Well… "Oh, now I am in this." Rather than step forward the ponytailed girl stepped back. But this was in no way a retreat, oh no. Her blazing brown eyes were like sharp focused points on Mitsuki's, and after a second the woman dropped her gaze. Ui had used up her adult quotient for the day; she had now reverted to a little kid who could come up with comebacks no more clever than idiot and meanie. "If my sister is sitting on Azusa-chan's face — which I doubt she is — then there's worse things to end up as." She turned to walk away, but Mitsuki wasn't done yet.

"And just what is _that _supposed to mean?" she brayed after Ui, and Jun jumped in.

"It means at least she's not some cougar-hag fucknugget who makes eight hundred yen an hour working at Subway because of a drunken weekend in high school she spent sitting on a kouhai's face." The bassist whirled around to follow Ui down the driveway. As she left both her hands came up to sling Mitsuki a double-eagle. She couldn't help it any better than she could help the enjoyment she derived from what she just said. She had hated Azusa's mother for all the dumb little chauvinist sex jokes she made, and she liked her even less for making a joke out of her deceased mother. _What would my mother say? She'd be proud of me, you dumb skank!_

Now at the end of the driveway Jun saw the slanted mailbox and her mother inspired another idea in her. Before she had drowned in that immense lake in Central Park over where the Hoshi Bridge crossed Jun's mother was known in the Suzuki family as a stinker and the Upsetter, a woman whose first bout of cervical cancer landed her jobless for years. During those years she drove around Sakura township and all the surrounding suburbs in search of garage sales, Goodwill's, and Salvation Army's. She would buy records and books from these places which she would auction on eBay. Often Jun, aged seven, would come with her, helping her to load the car's trunk with crates of records, cracking travelling salesmen jokes with her on the road, getting Wendy's when noon rolled around, and being her daughter.

Jun was remembering one sale where everything was ridiculously priced — one hundred yen for a paperback book when ten to twenty-five yen was more reasonable — and it was obvious that the clowns running this sale didn't really want to sell these things. Jun had suspected the books were trolled out for bragging: _Look at all these books I've got. I sure read a lot of books._

"Got any records?" Mrs. Suzuki asked while her daughter scowled at the books.

"Sure do," the old man nodded. "Got the Buzzcocks _Singles Going Steady. _Got AC/DC _Ballbreaker, _Elton John _Greatest Hits, _Led Zeppelin, Nirvana _Nevermind, _and Bob Marley and the Wailers."

All quality eBay material, if you knew how to play the game. "Sold," Mrs. Suzuki smiled, producing her wallet from her back pocket. Her chemo-pump whirred in the fanny-pack underneath her flannel shirt, her chemo shirt. "How much?"

"Five hundred yen," he replied breezily.

Her magenta eyes flashed up from her wallet, her brown eyebrows descending. "Each?"

"Ah-yup. We don't got no records out _here _for sale, they's in my basement. But you can have your pick of 'em for five hundred yen each." He said this as if he was offeringone helluva deal, but Mrs. Suzuki wasn't going for it; her wallet closed and disappeared back into her pocket. He lifted his chin — _chins, _actually — at Jun turning a battered copy of _The Giver _in her hands. "Hey, ya little hussy, bring that book here."

Mrs. Suzuki shook her head. "Don't tell my kid what to do." She took Jun's hand in her thin little paw and lead her down the driveway where her car was parked. Over her shoulder she called, "Go fuck yourself, pops."

All of the four-letter words Jun knew she learned from the Upsetter.

"WHAT? WHAT WAS THAT?" the man bellowed from his lawn chair. "HEY! C'MERE! _C'MERE!_"

Jun remembered thinking, _What, you really think she's going to turn around and head back up the driveway so you can have it out with her? _She had barked laughter and her mother shushed her as she hurried into the car.

What she really remembered as she stared at the slanted mailbox was the old guy's garage sale notice n the street corner as her mom drove away. Mrs. Suzuki had stolen it, considered it revenge for the old fuck's rudeness. This was the woman who in her girlhood had hidden in bushes and pegged passing cars with rotten eggs and squishy tomatoes. She was a block away from the guy's house, ranting about what an asshole and a jerk he was (Mrs. Suzuki was a bit of a jerk herself, but she was an awesome jerk), when she spied his sign. She fell silent and abruptly swung her car to the curb.

"Mom, what are you going to do?" Jun asked, somewhat warily. Her mother's last bout of Upsetting had earned her a twenty-five hundred yen ticket taped to her windshield. Twenty-five hundred yen…It would take fifty of that old guy's records to pay that sumbitch off.

"Wait here a second," she ordered in a low, excited voice. She darted out of the car and dashed up to the sign on the street corner. She yanked the thing up out of the ground — it had black soil clinging to the end of its post —and brought it over to her stalling car where she placed it in the trunk. She had looked like an activist with the picket sign slung over her shoulder. When she got back in the car she was grinning like a girl who had gotten off a great gasser…and Jun supposed she had done just that, never mind that at the time she was pushing forty,

Jun stared at the mailbox, eyes stinging. _I miss you, Mom. _And, her body excited from getting off her own great gasser, she trudged through the blackened snow-mounds made by the plow and wrapped her arms around the box's post. She straightened her back with a groan, and the mailbox crunched out of the ground with clods of frozen dirt stuck to its base. She hefted it over her shoulder, heard things clattering inside — _oh good, we'll bring Azusa-chan her mail —_and hurried ahead of Ui, ordering in a low, excited voice, "C'mon, let's go."

"Ju-un!"

_Mo-om! _It was creepy. How often had Jun used that exact tone of voice scolding her mother for her kicks?

"You can't take their mailbox!" Ui hissed, catching up with her friend.

"They can't evict their daughter," the bass player retorted. The mail shuffled back and forth in the box with every step. She threw her head back over her shoulder and triumphantly yelled an Upsetterism oft-used by her late mother: "See ya, fuckers! You're sluts and you deserve each other!"

* * *

><p>"Yui-senpai ~ I have Milk Duds ~"<p>

No dice. Even with her favorite candy (the most disgusting brand) as bait the elder girl still refused to open the door.

Azusa sighed. Her parents kicking her out felt like an eraser-swipe across a chalkboard, obliterating the life she had lead up until that point save for the dusty ghostly erasier-memories. Already that steamy not-so-innocent make out session from earlier felt like it had been lived in another girl's life. Azusa seemed to live another seventeen years in the course of one morning and she was exhausted, she had had enough for one day (or ten), and for now she only wanted to curl up and let the world roll along without her. She could catch up later.

But there was Yui to deal with, and Yui was important — even through the chalky cloud kicked up from this morning Azusa felt that. If her life from before getting kicked out had been swept from her mind it was time, then, to scrawl a new life on the board. And right now her mind was writing on the freshly clean blackboard: _You barged into her house unannounced and subjected her to some of the worst insults she's probably ever heard. It's a blue-eyed miracle you weren't kicked out of here either. So don't knock it. _She turned her crimson eyes upward, needing sleep. _Why must I be such a diva when I'm mad?_

"Yui-senpai, I wasn't in my right mind when I said all of those things." Azusa tried not to let her exhaustion come through in her voice — if she did she worried Yui might misinterpret it as carelessness.

The kouhai heard a thin scrape, a papery flap, and looked down to see Yui had shoved a widthwise-folded paper through the crack under the door. Azusa hesitated, her body seeming to stammer, and then stooped to unfold the missive. She was half expecting it to say _FUCK YOU, _but instead it read: _Did your parents say to you what you said to me?_

_Were _they _in their right minds when they threw me out? _Azusa wondered, pressing the note to her lips pensively.

"Yui-senpai, let's actually talk, huh?"

No response.

Azusa sighed and rolled her eyes. "Come on, Yui," she groaned, and her tiredness came through. Her forehead touched the door. "I know you were an easy target as a kid because you had no parents to rectify these situations, but — but — Christ, Yui, _everyone's _an easy target in primary school. _I _was an easy target in school…just like you, but for different reasons. You get older and when you look back on this hazing as a grownup, it dulls in your perspective. If it hadn't dulled in mine I would not have said what I said."

Silence.

"I had my parents, yes, but they never were there for me when I was getting bullied. They were too busy drinking martinis with a Friday night movie or watching shows about all the great restaurants in Tokyo." She opened her eyes and patted er hand roughly against the door for emphasis. "I'm less than five feet tall, okay? Kids called me short-stack, chibisuke, and they picked me up against my will because when you're little it's hard to defend yourself against people who are bigger than you, you know? I had a guy in middle school grab me by my ankles and swing me in circles until he threw me in the grass." She remembered scraping and cutting her face as she skidded. She remembered seeing the world tilt one way and then the other as she tried to stand up. She remembered sinking back to her knees and puking.

Still no response from Yui.

"In kindergarten my parents got my hair cut short for picture day and everybody in my class laughed and said I looked like a boy. A teacher actually called me 'young man' in the hallway." Which was an accident, but that still made her angry. More childhood memories belched up in her mind like gas rising from a mineshaft. Her blood boiled and her voice rose impassionately. "In first grade a kid threatened to cut my head off. He only had a butter knife, sure, but I didn't know any better. I told the teacher and he got suspended. I ran into him in middle school. He cornered me by my locker with a Buck knife held to my throat. He told me if I kept crying he would cut my head off for real." She remembered how impossibly ice-cold the blade had felt on her neck. She remembered her mind shrieking again and again, _Caught! I'm caught! Caught! Caught! Caught!_

"In third grade a guy named Jarell Shanks broke my arm. He called me midget, shoved me down, and pulled my right arm until the back of my hand touched my neck. Some teachers watched. Do you understand? _Some teachers watched. _I screamed for better than three minutes until a teacher finally came over. By then Jarell-san had run far away." _And didn't get in any trouble, _she thought bitterly. She remembered the sound of her arm breaking — like snapping a thick branch off a tree. She remembered the pain rolling down it, gray and huge. She remembered how distant her shrieks sounded for those brutal three minutes. She remembered color washing out of the world, which she had felt like she was floating in.

No response.

Azusa was about to move on to her first year in middle school when Nelson Guhrs tried to tell everyone that she sucked her daddy's cock when the door cracked open. The hallway's light fell within the darkened bedroom, upon Yui's listless brown eyes and tear-wet cheeks.

"And now your parents have kicked you out," she said. There was dullness in her voice, as flat as a dead line on a heart rate monitor, which Azusa didn't like.

The pigtailed girl nodded, saying nothing.

Fresh globular tears spilled over Yui's swollen eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. Azusa felt tempted to wipe them off. "Ui's sort of mad at our parents, did you know that?" Yui was now whispering. "She feels like they've given up on us." She drew in a thick grating breath, fighting back a runner of snot that wanted to ooze out of her nose. "What if parents aren't real? What if we're all alone and…and there is nothing else?"

A shiver crested up Azusa's neck, making her hairs jump up at attention. Yui's facial expression hardly changed as she studied the younger girl thoughtfully; a few more tears fell.

Three days after nine-year-old Azusa was discharged from the hospital her father approached her while she was attempting to do homework left-handed (while in the throes of agony on the blacktop she had screamed, "_JARELL-SAN, YOU JERK, YOU BROKE MY FROCKING ARM!_" and nobody had done anything to punish him — nobody seemed to know that it was he who broke her arm) and said, "You might not want to be such a loser, if you get what I'm saying. Losers send out a certain vibe that bullies can pick up on. If you hadn't sent out those vibes your arm wouldn't be broken." He shrugged. "No offense."

_No offense. _One of Azusa's all-time least favorite sayings. Assholes said 'no offense' to excuse them being assholes.

In her first year in middle school she had used some money she had saved up to buy a bra, even though she had had no breasts (they wouldn't swell into being until her third year). She bought it because you had to take off your clothes in front of other girls in P.E., and she didn't want to be the only girl in the locker room without one. One day her mother had asked her, "Azusa, if you didn't have feet would you wear shoes?"

Baffled and envisioning herself walking on stumps like a pirate with two wooden legs, Azusa said no. She had walked right into Mitsuki's ruse.

"Then why do you wear a bra?"

Azusa had stared at her mother, wide-eyed and stricken, her cheeks flaming, before she retreated back to her bedroom. The bullying hurt, yes, but even more than that what hurt was her parents' and teachers' refusal to see it. When a kid is having a tough time contending with difficulties that are really real, she could turn to her "best friend" the cop or the teacher, and the grownup looks the other way and she is alone.

"There is nothing else," Azusa whispered, and burst into fresh tears.

* * *

><p>Yui and Azusa seemed to make up around then — no kiss or anything, it was sort of intuitively and almost telepathically decided. After that the kouhai rolled into her girlfriend's bed for a long hard sleep. When she woke up to find the window black with night she was thrown into temporary and headachey confusion. You could get a hangover from drinking; you could also get one from crying.<p>

She reeled out into the hallway, and her eyes were stabbed with dazzling light. Squinting and blinking, she found the stairs, which provided some (literally) dim relief. Her center of gravity felt like it had elevated up to her pounding head. Balance all messed up. Homeless. The seventeen-year-old hobo.

At the bottom of the stairs she heard noises from the kitchen: silverware panging roundly on dishes and the faraway drone of voices, a blurring of vowel sounds. Her stomach growled sharply under her ribs as she made tracks for the kitchen; she hadn't eaten so much as a nibble all day.

She found the Hirasawa sisters eating frozen yogurt and blackberries at the table. It was 19:09, dinner was past, and now was time for dessert. An odd feeling of comfort and familiarity stole over Azusa as she stood in the doorway and watched them eat. It was more like coming in to family members eating dessert than her girlfriend and friend. They had been family today, she thought. They had fought and said vicious things (Azusa mostly) but at the end of the day they could make up, and she bet all her heart that if she were to walk in right now they would invite her to join them for dessert.

It just pained her so much that she would have to leave them so soon.

Azusa slunk in and Ui looked up.

"Azusa-chan! Do you want berries and yogurt?"

Yui looked at her expectantly over her shoulder.

The pigtailed girl shook her head. "I can't stay long."

"Long? I don't know about that," Ui smiled. "Forever seems pretty long, but that's only one girl's opinion."

Azusa blinked her eyes thickly. Her crying-hangover made her thinking slow. Yui got it before she did, which was a blue-moon rarity. The brunette whipped her head back around and whispered, "Do you mean…?"

Ui set down her spoon and interlaced her fingers below her chin, looking less like the girl she was and more like an adult making an important decision. "I'm not going to force you to live here or keep you hostage. But I'd like for you to stay with us."

Azusa lifted her head from the wall she was leaning against, and Yui's eyes doubled in size.

"Here?" The pigtailed girl's voice was high with surprise. "You want me to stay here with you guys? But…but…" _What an offer! _The enormity of it frightened her more then it endeared her. _Living in someone's house?_

Ui itched the cup of her right ear. "You're the main character in your life, and now you have to take a stand, Azusa-chan. This will affect you, mainly, so consider that."

"What about _you, _though? Won't I impose?" What about Azusa the seventeen-year-old hobo, stuffing her clothes with crumpled newspaper in the winter, riding the freight trains from town to town and never continuing in one stay, the hobo who felt herself becoming more and more a woman each time she plunged her callused hand into the trash and withdrew a half-eaten Big Mac or a bucket of KFC bones with perfectly good skin and meat still clinging to them? Huh? The little hobette who would probably die of hypothermia or syphilis or rabies — what about her?

Did Azusa really have a choice between _that _and the lap of luxury?

"It would be no imposition," Ui assured, waving a hand dismissively. "I could ask my parents for a 'raise.'"

"And that's okay?"

"Mm-hmm." Ui had learned from an early age, rather guiltily, that her parents were easy to milk, financially. She flipped her palm out and upward, her fingers pointed toward Yui. "You'll bunk with oneechan." She shuddered to think of some of the noises she might hear some nights if they were getting along particularly well, but her adult voice muttered, _Suck it up and invest in some ear plugs. Heavy-duty ones. _"You'll go to school with us, come home with us, take your meals with us, and so on so forth."

Azusa glanced at her uncertainly, turning her head aside and peering at Ui from the corners of her eyes. "Are you sure? Aren't you in love with Y—"

"_Shh!_" A little red about the cheeks, Ui leaned forward with her finger against her lips. Then, easing back with a softer facial expression, she explained, "I don't think it's like that for me anymore." _I won't have a daughter who lets some whore sit on her face. That's not a good woman's place in the world. _That was what Mrs. Nakano told Ui. The last twelve or so hours found the ponytailed girl pondering over how yesterday she had tripped and took her accidental seat upon some guy's face. What was his name? She heard Ritsu say it. Hitoshi? Kiyoshi? It was _something_-shi. She had sat on his face yesterday, took her bad woman's place in the world, and worst of all shown herself to him as being immodest.

Did he think she was a whore? Did he think she was the kind of girl who regularly sat on any flighty guy's face? For some puzzling reason — one that set off an urgent churning in her gut — she wanted to go to him and make it clear she was no that kind of girl.

…and get his name. What _was _it? Takashi? Hideshi?

"Ui, you're in love with someone?" Yui squealed, clapping her hands to her cheeks.

Her little sister's frame did a snap-jerk, as though jolting awake from sleep. A red fire of a blush flashed hot in her face and her collarbones. Her brown eyes sank bashfully and she squeaked, "It's a secret, oneechan. Major secret, you know?" She caught Azusa smirking at her, and her humiliation heat rose higher and her gaze sank lower.

Seriously. Was it Arashi? Tadashi?

"So…" Her eyes found their way back up to Azusa. "Will you stay?"

"Oh, please say yes, Azu-nyan!" Yui begged shrilly, clasping her hands together. "It'll be great! We'll sleep in bed together and we'll—"

"Fine. Alright. I'll stay. Keep your shirt on." _When we're in bed tonight keep it on _please.

What followed was something like the end of _Homeward Bound II, _when Chance learned Delilah could stay with his family. Yui didn't just stand up from the table, no. She _flew _up with a joyous oath exploding from her lips which startled both Ui and Azusa. "_YES!_" she crowed. Her feet barely touched the floor as she ran over to her girlfriend, who had that same exasperated thought everytime Yui approached her: _Oh boy. I'm about to get hugged, aren't I?_

And she did. Yui actually lifted her off the floor — all one hundred pounds of her — spun her around once, and landed her on her little socked feet. Her hands were still on the kouhai's waist when she kissed her, and Azusa remembered what a good kisser Yui was in an instant. The sounds she made, how good she was at swirling her tongue around Azusa's, how busy her hands were. But this wasn't a kiss like that. This kiss was rough, hard, and happy, and it ended with a loud smack. What followed was the classic Yui full-body hug where she nuzzled one of Azusa's chubby cheeks with almost furious glee. One of the kouhai's eyes was squinched shut where her girlfriend was nuzzling, but from the other eye she saw Ui sitting alone at the table across the room.

Azusa lifted her hand off Yui's shoulder and flashed her friend the peace sign. This was her way of silently conveying thanks, and she hoped Ui understood that.

She seemed to. Smiling, she nodded and flashed peace back.

And that is the story of how one stray kitty found a home.

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><p>AN

My father said once that swearing is the language of the ignorant. While I agree on that, I believe swearing is okay if you can do it cleverly. I'm a fairly creative swearer (as is my mother, hell I learned all my creative swears from her, such as fuck-a-duck and Bumblefuck, Egypt), so I made Jun a creative swearer as well.

From here we're all caught up, so updates will come at a slower rate, and I got another fic to get to work on. From here we'll dive into Mugi and Sawako's trip to Switzerland to meet Mugi's mom, Veronique Hohnstedt.


	34. Terminal A

The Switzerland arc begins!

For this arc I've sort of "borrowed" a writing shorthand from UsefulOxymoron. He (she?) wrote a pretty damn good Strawberry Panic! fic in which Yaya and Tsubomi study abroad in Quahog. I'm not really a fan of Family Guy at all, but even I got a laugh out of the story. Anyway, when characters spoke Japanese in the fic, the quotation marks looked like this: -"..."- When they spoke English they looked like this: "..."

So keep taht in mind for this arc. -"..."- is Japanese, and "..." is English.

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><p><strong>RECORDING<strong>

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**Terminal A  
><strong>

Sawako was counting down the seconds as the 747 nosed its way downward toward Lausanne, toward Bel-Air Aéroport, toward Veronique Hohnstedt, Mugi's mother. She looked out the window, DS clutched in a tight excited grip, watching the gray patches swell to glorious Victorian buildings in a span of nanoseconds.

It had been a pretty good flight, surprisingly. Usually Sawako didn't do so good on airplanes (she had been on one twice before). But this time "Ralph" hadn't acted up on her stomach, and the airsick bags stayed in the pocket in the seat in front of her. She spent the entire flight playing Pokémon Platinum.

-"How did _you _spend the time?"- she asked Mugi as the two of them made their way to the baggage claim area. By a stroke of misfortune they had wound up separated on the plane — Sawako was somewhere in the middle, Mugi somewhere in the front (the nice thing about the A-1 seat is that if the plane crashes you're the first one on the site).

-"Sleeping, for the first half,"- the ojou responded. She had a warm hand linked with Sawako's. She was excited for this necessary getaway, to say the least. It seemed healthy, she thought, to be this far away from Japan, from being student Tsumugi and teacher Sawako. Here they could do what they wanted without worry of being punished for it.

But for them it wasn't all clear, sunny skies. There was one pall of late…

Mugi tried to shake that off, as a dog shakes water from itself, tried to forget the semi-humiliating conversation she'd had with Ritsu and Azusa earlier this month. They would deal with this pall later, she and Sawako. Sometimes vacations were as much about resolving issues as they were escaping them…like in _Bag of Bones, _when Mike goes to Key Largo to better understand his writer's block.

The blonde girl went on, -"I spent the other half of it reading a book for school."-

-"Hm. Which book?"-

Mugi turned her carry-on item over in her free hand. She read the title carefully. "Um, _Harry Potter et la Pierre des Sorciers._"

Sawako laughed. -"I love how that sounds totally studious and at the same time totally not."-

They got their luggage from the rotating baggage claim belt. There wasn't much for them to collect — a suitcase each, plus a backpack for Mugi. After all, they were only spending eleven days here. Then on January 1, 2010 they would board another 747, this one bound for Kyoto, to spend the New Year's holiday with the Yamanaka bunch.

Mugi cast one last look at the baggage belt, which had always held an odd and inexplicable charm over her since she was little. During many of her girlhood trips abroad Holt would let her ride the belt round and round, holding her by her hands. Eventually a security guard always came to yell at them. Then Veronique would yell at Holt…and he would yell back at her. But even at the age of five Mugi knew to tune out _that _yelling.

She pulled out her cell phone to read the text message her mother promised her (flight security these days, can't use a phone in an airplane). It said, in French: _Meet me at Terminal A._

When the two of them got there they found Terminal A mucho crowdo. Her mouth hanging open a little, Sawako looked around, dazed, her ears filling with a frightening language she didn't know a word of yet somehow wound up speaking in Mansion Kotobuki on Halloween. French. Here at the bustling Terminal A families were either separating (maybe a college kid saying goodbye to his folks before setting off to study abroad), hugging and bidding the traveller a _bon voyage, _or they were reuniting, pecking cheeks.

Yes, very crowded was Terminal A. Sawako warily pressed closer to Mugi. The fast and easy French that came rolling out of these people's mouths was beginning to frighten her. They sounded like their mouths were full of peanut butter. The sensei couldn't help feeling like she was constantly in somebody's way. She felt like an extra here, about as important as a dog Mugi was leading on a leash.

-"Does Veronique-san know Japanese?"- Sawako asked, whispering in Mugi's ear. The ojou was scanning the thick crowd for her mother.

-"No,"- she said, sounding apologetic. She looked at Sawako with a somewhat uncomfortable smile.

-"How can she not? She lived there for over ten years, right?"-

-"Right."- Mugi was back to searching, craning her neck and swaying left and right. -"But, the thing is, she never left the mansion. She does know English, though,"- she added brightly. She looked at Sawako again, this time with a more natural smile. -"I believe you said once you know it, right?"-

"Right," Sawako said in English, also smiling. She mimed wiping sweat off her brow and Mugi giggled.

Of course it would be impossible to sweat in this weather. Beyond the overhang tons of giant snowflakes poured from the flat white sky. It was "snowing a bitch," as Sawako's mother was fond of saying. It was so cold it was a little scary. To make the ten-degree temperature worse, there was a strong wind to give the cold a bitter cutting edge.

_Are all winters in Switzerland this harsh? _the sensei wondered. She shivered and wrapped both arms her around one of Mugi's. _It must be nice to be as warm as she is._

The roadway in front of the terminal was every bit as busy as the terminal itself. Taxi cabs, limousines, buses, and vans crawled along in one direction, as slow as wireless internet connections, occasionally stopping when the traffic got bad. Angry horns squawked over the French chatter.

Mugi looked over her shoulder, muttering, -"This _is _Terminal A, isn't it?"-

Sawako suddenly perked up. She tugged at the keyboardist's sleeve. -"Mugi-chan, does Veronique-san have red hair and wear glasses?"-

Mugi looked at her, blinking in surprise. -"Yes. Do you see her?"-

-"I think so."- Sawako pointed. -"There's a woman holding a sign with hiragana symbols on it."- A drop of sweat slid down her head. -"…She's holding it upside-down."-

Mugi likewise sweat-dropped. She smiled and tilted her head. She could see her mother now, who seemed to be looking for a Kibutoko Gimu. _Dear Mother, she always tries so hard, doesn't she?_

Sawako let herself be pulled along as Mugi tried to shoulder her way through the throngs of families. The teacher was freaking out a little (well, "a little" was the wrong way to put it — maybe "a lot" was more fitting). Here she was, in a foreign country, about to meet her eighteen-year-old girlfriend's mother. How would Veronique take it when she found out that her daughter's girlfriend was eight and a half years older than her? That her daughter's girlfriend was her teacher? Sawako, who was beginning to see Tokudaiji's logic when he accused her of robbing the cradle, wanted more than anything to make a good impression. As Veronique loomed closer Sawako mentally rehearsed English greetings.

"_M__è__re!_" Mugi cheered when she was close enough, throwing up her free arm.

"_Mugi! Ah, ma fille!_" Veronique's face opened suddenly with a happiness so bright it made her look ten years younger. Sawako let Mugi go so she could hug her mother. They kissed both their cheeks. Then Veronique held Mugi out at arms' length, studying her, saying something in French — Sawako guessed it was something along the lines of _How you've grown! _Then the red-haired woman asked, "_Ç__a va le vol?_"

"_Ç__a va._" Mugi made a so-so gesture with her hand. "_Je suis fatigue._"

Veronique nodded, her face still youthful with happiness, her green eyes dancing behind her horn-rimmed glasses. She said something in French.

In a span of seconds Sawako had figured out just who this Veronique Hohnstedt was to Mugi. She didn't need to know French to know how immensely happy they were to see each other. Veronique even called Mugi by her nickname. The blonde girl got along so differently, so much more positively with her mother than she did with her stodgy, awkward father that Sawako couldn't help wondering why Mugi wasn't living with Veronique. Didn't kids usually live with their mothers and visit their fathers when the parents split up?

_Not when the father's the richest man in Japan, I guess._

Sawako felt a trace of sadness as she looked at Veronique, who went on talking in a language the sensei didn't know a word of yet somehow understood.

Mugi stepped aside then, smiling at Sawako, who knew the introductions were coming. _Say "hello, nice to meet you," and shake her hand __—__ that's what they do in the west. _Veronique was looking at her curiously. Mugi was yammering away in French; the teacher caught her own name, in western order: _Sawako Yamanaka._

"Sawa-chan, this is my mother, Veronique Hohnstedt," Mugi said to Sawako, switching to English.

Veronique stepped forward, her eyebrows furrowed. "_Ko__—__konichiwa._" She sounded sixteen different flavors of awkward. "_Watashi wa…_uh, _Mugi no okaa-san._"

"She knows English, Mother," Mugi giggled.

The relief that spread itself across Veronique's face in the form of a relaxed grin was so immense it was almost reminiscent of a young girl's first orgasm.

"Not that your Japanese isn't terrific," Sawako added quickly. It almost made her laugh, how Japanese she could still be on foreign soil. In Japan you were supposed to compliment a foreigner on their use of the language, even if it was the most awful in-the-raw load of suckage you ever heard come dribbling out of a person's face. And hadn't Sawako felt that same kind of relief Veronique was feeling right now whenever she found out the gaijin could actually speak Japanese? Seeing the flip-flop of it was pretty damn chuckalicious, if she did say so herself.

"Mlle Yamanaka, we all know that's bullshit," Veronique said, still grinning. "But thanks anyway."

Sawako was briefly shocked by the redhead's use of profanity. How easily Veronique swore at someone she just met! This definitely never happened in Japan.

"C-call me Sawako."

"Alright. Then you call me Veronique. Hell, call me Ronnie, if you like. Don'cha love getting to first names? It's like being able to take off your heels."

She was, without a doubt, a _lot _more sociable than Holt.

Remembering that great western greeting gesture, Sawako put out her right hand (it was always done with your right hand, something Sawako was sure would baffle and enrage Mio). "So very nice to meet you."

"Feeling's mutual, Sawako." Veronique didn't shake her hand. Instead she seized her by the shoulders and pecked both cheeks. She laughed a little at the shock on Sawako's face, then said, "What do you say we stop freezing our asses off out here and take a cab to my place already?"

"Yeah, let's!" Mugi cheered.

"S-sounds good to me," Sawako said, shivering.

Veronique watched the sensei shiver for a second. "I'm guessing it's warmer in Japan?"

"A bit," responded Sawako. "I'm fine, though…Oh, thanks, Mugi-chan," she smiled as her girlfriend removed her scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

"No problem. You seem to need it more than I do." Mugi's cerulean eyes swam as she smiled up at Sawako. _Isn't this great, Sawa-chan? _Her smile seemed to say.

It _was _great. Sawako liked Veronique already. She had heard the redhead was fiery and flippant (as most gingers tend to be), but Ronnie was funnier and more friendly than the sensei had been expecting. It Sawako could have said anything then she would've said, "It's all good." And if Mugi's mother wasn't standing right there Sawako would have taken her in her arms and kissed her so passionately that even the people that hated her would feel good.

At the edge of the terminal, with the dime-sized snowflakes coming down in heaps, Veronique tried to hail a cab. Most of her efforts were in vain. The cabs slid by, either occupied or empty and the cabbie wanted to take this puppy back to the garage ASAP and clock out. The one cab Ronnie did manage to nab was stolen by a fat man in a suit with a briefcase. Ronnie raised her middle finger in the world's oldest gesture and yelled at him to go fuck himself.

Mugi stepped forward and pinched her lower lip in her teeth. Sawako's hands came to her ears — she knew what was up.

The ojou's wolf-whistle successfully landed them a cab.

Veronique gaped at her. "How in the _world _do you _do _that?"

"That's what _I'd _like to know!" Sawako exclaimed.

"Takes practice," Mugi said, shrugging.

In the cab Veronique popped the question Sawako had been dreading.

"So where do you two know each other from?"

The sensei went rigid with fear and Mugi glanced uncertainly at her. Sawako's first impulse was to lie — _we work at the same restaurant, we met on the train, we chatted online and agreed to meet in Tokyo. _Anything but _I'm her teacher. _But she didn't want to lie to Mugi's mother, not hell-call-me-Ronnie, whom Sawako liked so much.

"From…from school," the sensei croaked, looking at Veronique. Peripherally she saw Mugi give her a big warm smile; felt her hand join with her own, their fingers interlocking, and squeeze.

The blonde keyboardist then tured toward her mother. "Sawa-chan's kind of, uh…my…homeroom teacher."

Veronique's eyes crawled on up to Sawako's, and for the first time since her speaking Japanese she looked a bit uncertain of her.

The teacher bit her lip, looking at Mugi's mother with what she hoped was a considerate I'm-doing-right-by-your-daughter expression. She wanted Veronique to know the truth, and she wanted Veronique to go on liking her. But you can't always have it both ways. If it was one thing twelve years of fail-dating had taught Sawako, it was that.

"What year did you graduate college?" Veronique asked.

Sawako knew what this was. It was impolite to come right out and ask someone's age, so Ronnie had gone around it a little. "2006," she replied.

She tensed and waited. In a moment Veronique would have done the math and realized that her only daughter was dating an almost thirty-year-old. Then the storm would break with hurricane-force winds and blinding snaps of lightning. Veronique would rant and rage. She would subject poor Mugi to the worst insults imaginable. She would probably even hit Mugi. Then she would order the cabbie to pull over and she would kick them out into the snow, into Lausanne, hundreds of thousands of miles from home. Sawako had learned, on November 30, what had happened to Azusa. _Jesus please-us. Why _did _we tell her the truth? She probably will give us the boot. _Her heart was pounding way too hard in her chest, so hard she could feel it in her wrists. Cold fear slid down the back of her throat — a taste not unlike what she imagined battery acid tasted like. She looked at Mugi. Her girlfriend's face, which was normally so soft and gentle, had hardened. On it Sawako registered a fear quite similar to her own.

Veronique nodded and sat back. "Well, then, _that's _alright, isn't it?"

Mugi's face stayed hard for a second. Then her mouth sank open and her blue eyes bulged. She blinked owlishly. She almost looked a little stupid. Sawako maybe would have laughed, but her throat had stopped working. Her own face felt a little "open" as well.

"Uhh…" was all Mugi could manage.

When Veronique looked at them she actually did laugh — a snuffling snicker that seemed more appropriate for an old man than a forty-seven-year-old woman. She tipped a finger under Mugi's chin and closed her mouth. "Close your mouth, Kermit. The flies'll get in." She sighed, leaning her chin in her palm, and at that moment she didn't seem nearly as young to Sawako as she'd seemed when she first met up with her kid. "Mugi, Holt's fifteen years older than me. I trust you two won't be stupid the way he and I were, will you? You won't let that happen, Mugi, will you?"

Mugi shook her head.

"And you know what I mean when I say Holt and I were stupid, don't you?"

Mugi nodded, her face hard again. When her face got like that she looked a tad older herself. It was, in fact, the long-suffering look of an old woman.

Veronique nodded, satisfied. She sat back again. "But don't worry about us, Mugi. Our stupidity had nothin' to do with the age gap." She looked out the window and said in the most bitter voice Sawako had ever heard anyone use, "Yep, age was the least of that old son of a bitch's problems…"

Mugi squirmed a little. She uncrossed her legs, then crossed them the other way. She didn't look at her mother.

Sawako still couldn't believe Veronique was fine with her kid dating her teacher. Looking out her own window, she thought, _I'm not in Switzerland. I'm in Ireland, where the luck never runs out!_

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><p><em><em>**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Gosh, it's been a long time since I updated this thing. So sorry if the writing style seems, er, stiff. If it does, that's the reason why.

This chapter and the next are like character development for Veronique and Mugi. I need to research Lausanne, find things to do there. By the way, there's no such thing as Bel-Air airport in Lausanne. There is a Bel-Air Métropole, in the Montbenon neighborhood, which is probably where Veronique lives.

Now it's time to work on an update for A Moment Like This.

btw, I dug up part of chapter one of a NodokaxYui fic I was working on earlier this year. I'll have to finish it and post it.

Until next time! Peace.


End file.
